


Lover's Prelude

by ferallahey



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries & Related Fandoms, The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, LGBTQ Themes, Multi, Reapers, Red String of Fate, Reincarnation, Slow Burn, Unhealthy Relationships, klaus gets in his own way, luke warm suicide attempt, one sided slow burn technically, some ships are undecided, there will be warnings before the harder chapters though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:22:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 34,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25661305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferallahey/pseuds/ferallahey
Summary: When she’d befriended Stefan Salvatore, Hanne had thought she’d finally got it right. Whatever formula it was to endear her to people, to actually make friends- she’d dared hope that she’d perfected it. That notion had been dashed the moment he and his darling brother had placed a hood over her head and tried to trade her for a doppelgänger.
Relationships: Klaus Mikaelson/Original Female Character(s), Klaus/Original Character(s), Malachai "Kai" Parker/Original Character(s), Malachai "Kai" Parker/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 122





	1. Betrayed

Her low whistling reverberates off the cold white walls, the hallway filling with the sound. Every step she takes is measured, her gait slow and unhurried, her small hands tucked into the pockets of her loosely fitted jeans. Hanne navigates the hospital with ease, taking her time to peek into the rooms that interested her.

Each bland painting she passed only bored her, the lack of life in the decorations giving Hanne the idea that this is where people truly go to die. Everything about the air felt sad and stale, the world within the hospital slowing to a crawl as she turned the corner. A silver line, thin and fragile, seemed to sprout from her chest and pull tauter with every step. Not before long, it led Hanne to a lonely-looking room.

The whirring of machines melted into the forced soft breathing coming from the body in front of her. In the center of the room was a bed, and on the bed laid an older woman, her dark brown hair growing grey at the temples. An oxygen mask cradled the lower half of her face, her eyes closed despite Hanne's presence. Hanne's whistling trailed off, and the sides of her mouth turned down.

Her name was Margret. Aged forty-five, mother of three. Worked at an animal shelter, spent a lot of her time doing things for other people. Well, she had until she'd fallen into a coma nearly a year ago.

And Hanne was here to kill her.

She double-checked the silver line. Flashing beneath the fluorescent lights like mercury, it still lingered in the air between Hanne and Margret. Hanne pursed her lips and walked over to Margret's prone figure. Her hands were protected by beaten leather gloves, once perfect black now faded and scratched from years of use. Hanne's fingers walked their way up Margret's chilled arm, passing her shoulder and resting just above her sweaty forehead. Out of habit, Hanne brushed a few sweat laden strands of hair away from Margaret's face.

For a moment, Hanne just looked at her. Took in her crow's feet, her laugh lines. The sunspots that had gathered over the years. Her hand traced the side of Margret's face, cupping it gently and using her other hand to part her mouth. She licked her lips and surged forward, unable to help herself. An inch before their lips could touch, Hanne stopped, taking in a breath so deep it was like her lungs were about to burst. Like the plume of white smoke, Margret's soul bled into the air only to be sucked into Hanne's waiting mouth.

The color leeched from Margret's face. Her once rosy cheeks turned ashen, the tension in her body from years of fighting to hold on finally leaving her. There was a peacefulness in death, one that Hanne had seen first hand, over and over as her targets left this world. Any weariness they felt, any pain, it all disappeared the moment she took their soul.

Hanne wouldn't fool herself into thinking she was doing a selfless act. She wasn't taking them to Heaven or Hell, wasn't there simply to relieve them of their hurt. At the end of the day, Hanne was here to eat. To fuel herself, keep her fire burning bright by snuffing out theirs. Those of the supernatural variety had the Other Side. Humans...humans had her and her kind.

Of course, some humans moved on whatever their Other Side was. In fact, most went free. There simply weren't enough of her kind to consume the souls of the entire human population. There's no rhyme or reason as to why some people get picked for consumption. The silver line appears when it wants, regardless of age or the person's supposed purity. It didn't even need to be followed. Hanne could pluck the soul from their corpse if she wanted. She just appreciated how fresh a soul was right on the verge of death.

She pulled away from Margaret's body the second her heart rate machine began to race before falling flat. Without a backward glance, Hanne turned and walked out of the room, whistling once more.

* * *

It was with great amusement that the car she'd been given for her sixteenth birthday was a hearse. Her parents had a sick sense of humor, it was true. Then again, their house was part morgue and funeral home, it made sense to have one laying around. Did she use it to cart around dead bodies, whisking them off to be buried beneath the earth under the eyes of crying family members? Not usually, no. Mostly, she used it to drive to the book store or whatever coffee shop was open during her random outings.

At twenty-three, Hanne's days were usually filled with her college courses and endless studying. She needed to get into medical school, if only for appearances sakes. People liked facts and logic to back up why a person died; many didn't just accept someone saying they just _know_ that Mr. Smith from down the street slipped on the tile of his bathroom, and then he choked on his tongue when he hit the floor.

Her family had grown to be experts in hiding what they were. Her father had become a Forensic Pathologist who 'settled' for being a mortician, and her mother ran a funeral home. Souls to consume came in endless supply for them. Plucking one from the shining drawers in the morgue room was her family's version of searching for a bottle of wine. The rest of the neighborhood just assumed her family was full of really dedicated goths, not that they were supernatural creatures who ate spirits.

Hanne pulled into her street, the sight of her deep burgundy house bringing a sense of safety. It stood tall, proudly painted by her mother's spidery fingers, each window and doorframe meticulously picked out by a critical eye. The front lawn boasted endless rows of wildflowers, the carefully cultivated grounds choking with color. Her favorite magnolia tree was planted right next to her window, and she smiled wistfully at it.

An iron-wrought gate kept the outside world from the house, her adoptive brother's spell works only allowing those welcomed to pass the gates. It created a barrier around the home, those unwelcomed stuck feeling wary at the very sight of it. Outside of the gate and to the left was the driveway, kept void of flowers due to her brother's reckless driving. Her parents and brother must have been out, the usual space empty of their black cars. Just as she's getting out of her car, Stefan's red Porsche pulled up next to her.

Any happiness she felt at seeing her friend was dashed as his demonic brother Damon got out of the passenger seat, his glacier blue eyes narrowed on her. Hanne scowled back at him, wondering if it was too late to get in her car and drive away. Despite it being her own home, Hanne didn't want to be there if He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named is going to be there. Seeing her expression, Stefan smiled nervously as he jogged over to her.

A cold sting built in the back of her throat, much like the brittle winter air. It was the signature of the undead; sharper than a ghost's presence, like popping a mint before drinking ice cold water. A second joined it when Damon shut the door.

Unlike his brother's Prince Charming look, Damon looked every inch the bad boy he thought himself to be. A handsome man with inky black locks and piercing blue eyes, a gaze so much colder than Stefans. Stefan ran his hand through his caramel-colored hair, his Lapis Lazuli ring glinting in the setting sun. Bathed in soft oranges and reds, and an earnest expression, he is someone Hanne knows she can trust.

"Hanne, hey, we need your help with something." Stefan said, juniper green eyes glancing at the space where her parent's cars should be.

"You brought your brother to my home? Stefan, that's just cruel. " Hanne slammed her car door with excessive force, wishing Damon's head had been between the door and the frame. It'd probably squish like a grape, she thought with a wry grin.

"I don't want to be here either, Miss Wednesday Addams," Damon snapped. "But this is a life and death situation, and you seem to have the death part down."

"Stefan, tell your brother not to talk to me." Hanne said firmly.

Hanne didn't have enough energy to hate many people. She didn't even have enough energy to love many people. But she loved Stefan, and she loathed his dumbass brother. Stefan and she have been friends since she was nineteen, having met at a bookstore in the Philosophy section. It'd taken weeks of coaxing him with strawberry croissants and talks about mortality to get him to open up. When she'd finally spilled the beans that she knew exactly what he was, that's when they let each other in.

After years of not having any friends, Hanne thought she'd finally found the right formula to make some. Stefan told her all about his life, his chaotic brother, Katherine- everything. She did her best to do the same, though she'd kept one very specific detail from him to avoid this exact conversation.

"Why didn't you tell me you remember your past life?" Stefan blurted. He tucked his hands into his jacket pockets, his shoulders hunching in. "And that you knew an Original?"

That was a bomb of a question. Hanne didn't really remember her past life- lives, actually- she remembered random bits and pieces that would never make up a complete picture. The lives she lived before were doomed to be incomplete. What she remembered could be equated to recalling random facts on a Snapple lid. Most of what she knew held the emotional weight of a bowling ball. Forgive her if she didn't want to talk about it in coffee shop full of humans.

"Oh yeah, 'knew' an Original. She knocked around with him for God's sake, I don't think it gets anymore personal than that!" Damon rolled his eyes, coming to stand at his brother's side. "We don't have time for this, either ask her or I will!"

"I have no idea who you're talking about, Stefan. Honestly. I didn't tell you because nobody ever believes me, and when they do, they try to use me for some underhanded scheme. But I promise I don't know who you're talking about." Hanne rested against her car, eyeing Damon warily.

"Can you help us save Elena or not?" Damon asked impatiently.

Ah. Elena. The doppelgänger; the copy of a copy.

It's always Elena.

"I might. What do you need me to do?" Hanne sighed. It was as close to a yes as Damon was going to ever get from her.

"Whatever happens, just know that I'd never put you in danger-" Stefan began, eyes begging for her to understand.

"We don't have time for your _empathy_ , Stefan. We need to spirit her away before Elena finds out that elixir doesn't work."

Personally, Stefan's empathy was what she liked about him. It was something she felt she lacked. Damon's fingers sank deeper despite Hanne's hiss of pain. Black spots danced across her vision as she looked helplessly at her friend, silently begging for this to be a terrible dream. But the betrayal proved to be real when like a candle, Hanne flickered out and into the black.

* * *

There's a hood over her head she is sure is made of burlap with how it scratches at her skin. She wants to scream at Stefan for putting it over her head- he knows she thinks burlap is fucking ugly and that it's meant for a ranch and not some kidnapping situation. But mostly she wants to scream at Stefan for causing the ache in her chest. For making her feel like her heart is ripping in two.

She'd been so _happy_ when they'd finally become friends. Elated to see that her reaching hands had finally been caught and that someone had been reaching for her in return. That she'd been wanted.

She hated Stefan at that moment for ruining that feeling for her.

Hanne thrashes in his hold. Her hands had been tied together, and not even the familiar scent of Stefan's soft shirt can calm the wild fury building in her veins. She strikes him across the face with her nails, raking just beneath his eye. Stefan grunts but doesn't drop her, only shushing her like a frazzled parent would a disobedient child.

"She's more of a wild cat than I thought she would be." Damon says dryly.

"Don't be scared, Hanne, I promise I have a plan." Stefan tries to assure her, squeezing her tighter against him.

She wants so badly to trust him. The ache in her neck and head might be tampering with her decision-making skills, but Hanne sags against him, going limp as a doll. She feels Stefan slam a car door shut with his foot, his movement jostling her only slightly. Energy hums beneath her skin, clawing, pulling, begging to ignite. Instead, she snuffs it and asks him the question that's been running through her mind since she came to.

"Where are we going, Stefan?" Her whisper is futile, Damon's snort confirms it.

"You're being kidnapped by two vampires and you're okay with that? What a prize, Stef." Damon sounded closer like he was just within reach if she could extend her leg and stomp on his chest with it.

"Does your brother ever shut up?" Hanne snapped, trying to kick out where she thinks Damon might be. Her beaten sneaker catches on a solid chest, and she sneers viciously beneath her hood with triumph.

Damon's hand catches on her ankle, and she knows without a shadow of a doubt that if Stefan hadn't been there, he would have broken it. Stefan whispers in her ear, something low that she doesn't listen to, some half-baked plan that involves her and Elena. Elena was set to be ritually sacrificed by some crazy vampire who claimed to be an Original- one of the first of his kind. Apparently, he and Hanne had some sort of history together.

Hanne doubts it was a good one if she doesn't remember a lick of it.

When Stefan finally sets her on the ground and pulls her hood off, she's left wincing against a harsh orange light. The scent of smoke filled her nostrils, almost thick enough to choke on. A perfect circle of fire trapped a person in each of them, two of the bodies slumped on the ground and going cold. She could feel that one had been a vampire by the cold chill that pulsates in that back of her head.

Something feral wafted off of the second fallen body, and Hanne tentatively placed her under the 'werewolf' category. Even as a corpse, the sheer force of _changechangeshift_ radiating off of the dead blonde woman was telling. The full moon greeted her when she chanced a glance and she pursed her lips. Hanne would bet everything she had that the last girl standing, encased by a ring of fire, was the copy. She was waifish and looked so young as she shook, her puppy dog eyes wide and locked on Stefan.

A sharp inhale alerts her to the presence of another. Locking eyes with him, she's gobsmacked by the sensations she feels from him. Cold, but the ice was chased by a barely-there heat. Warm, only to get chased out by a glacier chill. Over and over, two warring states doused each other, warping and re-warping until she couldn't tell exactly what she was looking at.

"Fascinating," She breathed out, soaking up this man's image, trying to peel back his skin to see just what kind of beast would be revealed.

"What is this, Stefan?" The man says, voice ragged.

He's standing just outside Elena's circle, his eyes locked onto Hanne. Elena looks between the two of them, soft dark eyes confused but shining with some that looked a lot like hope. Tear tracks marked there way down her olive-toned cheeks, her chestnut hair sticking to spots that haven't dried. She looked so small in that circle. So young and fragile.

Hanne doesn't care. Hanne is mad at her too.

"I'm here as a hostage? I thought you meant to talk to the guy!" Hanne hissed.

This man looks at her with an ache deep as the ocean, one that threatens to pool around her thighs and pull her to the very bottom.

"She's not a doppelgänger, if that's what you're thinking." Damon answers for his brother, both of the Salvatore brothers never looking away from Elena's frightened face. "Iona never had children. She's the real deal, Klaus."

Hanne rolls the name along the tip of her tongue, tasting it, trying to recall if she's ever heard it before. It's there in the very back of her mouth and she wants to spit it out but her tongue feels heavy. There's a whirlwind of emotion that comes along with the fragile memory. It pops like a soap bubble before she can even process what it was she was feeling.

The back of her neck throbs from Damon's knock out, the wounds already crusting over with dried blood. Damon resumes his hold, the scent of her blood hitting the cool night air and mingling with the smoke. Hanne absently thinks about how bloody this field would become if her family were here and saw her tied up like a pig.

"Don't you dare speak her name!" Klaus snarled. "This-this is some trick! Some lie! Iona is long gone from me, I saw it with my own eyes, this girl _cannot_ be her!"

Klaus steps into the circle and the fire goes out all at once. Without hesitation, he wretches Elena's neck back and sinks his teeth in. Damon shouts with anger, his grip threatening to shatter her spine. He's torn off of her by a figure dipped in ink, his suit blending into the dark like a shadow. She thinks she shouldn't know this man, that she's never seen him before in her life. But she remembers his fathomless black eyes and a name spills from her lips.

"Elijah?" She whispers, the word coming out warbled.

Stefan pushes her towards Elijah who catches her and holds her steady. The Salvatore brothers flash after Klaus, the orchestrator of this disaster on his knees and howling as his bones snap. His eyes ignite like embers and Hanne watches as his heart breaks as Elijah comes to join in on the fun. She's still not sure who this Elijah is and why she knows him, but she takes the opening the confusion gives her and bolts into the woods.

The forest doesn't blur around her. She'd been taught to be faster than a human, to push her strength into the balls of her feet and run like a track star. But she can't compete with a vampire's speed. A chill races up the back of her neck and she knows someone is giving chase.

Smoke plumes from her skin, a tarry substance spilling from the pores of her forearms and replacing creamy skin with pitch. Hanne pictures herself pulling apart like taffy, like mist, trying to displace her molecules and reform them. The most she can do is phase through a tree she didn't have the agility to evade, a shudder racking through her as exhaustion already begins to take its toll. She runs even as her thighs begin to tremble. Hanne thinks she sees a break in the trees, the headlights of a car, and she could cry from relief.

Elijah chooses then to swoop in and snatches her up. Leaves flutter from the force, his own Lapis Lazuli glimmering in the moonlight like the teeth of a snake as his arms encircle her waist. Hanne screams, thrusting herself from him and landing hard on the ground. The ropes pull at her tender skin, biting into it and leaving her wrists raw and bloody. Her body thrums as it tries to pull apart but Elijah is quicker, plucking her from the ground and flashing through the forest.

They appear next to an SUV, the shock of such an ordinary car as his vehicle of choice at war with the rising vomit. Hanne expels the contents of her stomach, the bile missing Elijah's pristine shoes by a hair. He only shushes her, brushing her thick curling hair from her sweaty face and gathering it for her. Elijah speaks low in a language a hidden part of her reveals to be old Norse.

The crackling of bones and the heavy breathing of a werewolf mid-shift ensnares her. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she searches for the source, for the terrible sound. It's Klaus again, the whites of his eyes an endless black that threaten to swallow her whole. It's only the gold in them that breaks her of her daze, her mouth snapping shut before she realizes it was even open. His spine arches and he breaks from her gaze to clench his eyes tightly against the pain. A vicious, victorious smile spreads across his face despite the torture his body is under.

"Take her to the estate. She doesn't need to see this." Klaus says through gritted teeth.

"And what of your promise?" Elijah's voice is smooth as glass, with something just as fragile hiding beneath it. It sounded a lot like hope.

"All of us will be together again," Klaus wheezes a laugh, blood trailing from the corner of his lips. "And in such a way, too."

He sends her one last lingering look, a promise that they'd meet again in his amber snare. Hanne doesn't want to meet this man again. Doesn't want to look upon his charming grin or his dimples that try to paint a picture of a fairytale and not the demon that so clearly lies under his skin. She can feel the pulsating of life in him, and yet she can feel his death just as clearly as she can feel Elijahs'. Klaus is a man caught in between; neither fully vampire, nor wolf. For all the myths and creatures she's come across, he is the first that's ever surprised her.

"I think not." Hanne's lips tremble, heart-thumping rabbit fast. She won't die for whatever sin her past self committed. She refused.

Her limbs began to plume again, the edges of her curls lifting into the air as if underwater. She reaches inside herself and threatens her body to bend to her will. She vibrates like a hummingbird, heartbeat pounding in time, her frowning lips twisting into a smile as she begins to come undone. Elijahs' arm cleaves through her center, coming through her as if she were a ghost. It takes her entire being to keep her focus, to blink out of existence and wink into it once more.

Despair gripped her.

Her phasing only made it so she stepped a few feet away, and Elijah was on her in a moment, a cloth soaked in what she _knows_ is chloroform pressing against her nose and mouth. In her mind, she damns these two and feels a morbid satisfaction that her parents will be searching for her. That her family will track her to the ends of the earth if she isn't there when he comes to pick her up.

And her family will be very, very angry.

* * *

The world around her is an eye aching shade of white when she wakes. Hanne finds herself lying in an unfamiliar bed and dressed in clothes she doesn't recognize. The bed is a four-poster canopy, with dreamy cream drapes cascading down the sides. She watched them for a moment, eyes catching sight of an open balcony. It's still night time, and the full moon hangs right in sight as if to mock her.

The room she's in is elegantly decorated, minimalistic and something out of a catalog meant only for the rich. It's modern for the most part, though there are glimpses of lives left behind littered about the room that spoke of an old-world touch. It's not to her taste, but it is clearly to Elijahs.

Said man is sitting across from her, poised and refined in a crisp dark suit. The leather chair he's sunk into looks as expensive as the rest of the house, the scent of it faint and new. His eyes are a fathomless black, and his hair is perfectly combed away from his face. He is the kind of man that can pin you in place with a simple look and Hanne knows she should fear him even as the corners of his lips twitch upwards into the smallest of smiles. She momentarily ponders throwing herself from the balcony and chancing the landing instead of dealing with him but pushes the thought away as he spoke.

"Iona." He greets, a deep affection mingling with wariness coloring his tone.

"Hanne. Iona was long ago." _Too long ago and yet not long enough ago._ Hanne settles against the bed, her hands gripping the luxurious comforter tightly. "Who…?"

"One of the maids." He answers simply.

"Good, good." Hanne mumbles, nodding.

Her wrists ache and she glances at them. They are a molten purple and blue, thin ribbons sliced into them where the rope had pulled taut. The cuts are scabbing over, most of them healed and gone already. Elijah gazes at them for a moment, something like rage flashing in his eyes before disappearing completely. For all that he's feigning a casual air, Elijah is bursting at the seams beneath his facade. Even as impeccably refined as he seems, Elijah is a monster like the rest of them.

"I apologize, I can not seem to wrap my head around this. How exactly are you alive? Iona died nearly a thousand years ago. I was there when Niklaus found he-your body." Elijah asked. He leaned in, his black eyes revealing themselves to actually be brown. His pupils turned to pinpricks and Hanne could feel a spark of _something_ trying to latch onto her brain and make her spill her secrets. It was all too easy to shrug it off.

"Compulsion doesn't work." She sighed.

"That means you aren't human. Is that how you lived? Then why not come back to us? Why not come _home_?" His voice had turned rough at the end.

It was the truest sign of emotion she'd seen from him since they'd met. None of the wariness showed through, not of the confusion. Just pure unadulterated heartbreak. Despite it, she knew she was going to dodge that first question for as long as she could. That was a can of worms she did not need to open in front of someone who might want to kill her.

"Because I did die." Hanne plucks at a nonexistent string, the perfection of the comforter giving her nothing to do with her hands. She balled them at her sides and tipped her head back, resting it against the ostentatious headboard. "I've died many times."

"That doesn't explain why you didn't come home." Elijah said, frustrated.

"I didn't come home because I don't know you. I don't remember anything about you, aside from your name. Your friend, Klaus?"

"Brother. He's my younger brother. There were six children in our family, when you knew us." His brows pinched together as he corrected her.

"Yeah, well, I don't remember him at all. And I don't think I ever will." Hanne said. "My memory is like...it's like a riverbed full of rocks alright? As time goes on, a river will erode the rocks in it. Eat away at them until they are smooth or totally gone. Some memories are just not going to come back, Elijah."

"I don't believe that." Elijah sat back, his carefully curated mask slipping back into place. "I refuse to believe you'll never remember us. There has to be some way. Some spell, _something_."

"Well, if you figure it out, give me a call. I think I should head home now, my family is probably growing frantic." Hanne gave him a tight smile and tried slipping out the bed, only to be stopped by large hands.

"Your family is more than welcome to come to visit while we figure this out. For now, I suggest you get back into bed and continue resting." Elijah said soothingly but every word was a command.

He looked at her and Hanne could see the beast that hid behind his polished mask, the one that demanded the world bend to his will or that he'd tear it apart with his own hands. She hadn't forgotten the way Stefan had said Original, had said it incredulously but with an underlining fear that spoke volumes of the power this man had. She held back the burning question of which Original was 'her' Original. It'd only pull her deeper into this mess. Instead, she focused on what she could handle saying.

"I'm already healed. Can't you just let me go? Or am I a prisoner here?" Hanne asked with a scowl.

"Of course you are not a prisoner. You're in your own home." Elijah said slowly. "You're family, Hanne. You are safe here. And you can leave just as soon as Niklaus comes back and we figure out how to restore your memories."

Hanne caught the lie in his words but it was all she could do to cling to any faction of hope she had left. Her family would find her. If anything, they would find her. And Original or not, she knew that there would be hell to pay.

"Sure. Great. So," She tried for casual, "Just how did you find me?"

"Ah. You can blame me for that if you wish. We hardly even uttered your name, lest unleash the hell it would cause. But I'd once been besotted with this young woman and may have shared your name in passing. It seems even after five-hundred years, she'd remembered it." Elijah's tone had cooled, turning to ice chips the more he spoke.

There was a hatred for this girl in his eyes. A kind that was born from hurt, from love. Whoever she was, had fucked him over royally and just had fucked Hanne over.

"What was her name? This girl?" Hanne's head tilted to the side, gaze threatening to lance Elijah where he sat from where she peered up at him from underneath thick lashes.

"Her name is Katerina Petrova. I hear these days she's going by Katherine Pierce." He eyed her, the hint of a fond smile pulling at his lips. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason. Just was curious is all." Hanne shrugged and gave her best smile.

_Curious to see who she'd kill first the second she got out of this hellscape. And oh, how Katerina will suffer._


	2. Devotion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Klaus is....Klaus lol
> 
> TW: canon typical violence.

_Everything I fear, always meets me here_  
_In the early hours dancing with my doubts_  
_I can be a hard light to ignite_  
_All my nightmares feel like real life_

_-Conscious by Broods._

For two days, Hanne was stuck in Elijah’s estate. Every time she tried to slip out the door or even cracked open a window, Elijah was there to pin her with an exasperated look. After the first day, she ceased looking for ways to escape and soothed herself with thoughts of maiming the brothers. If Stefan, who was once a Ripper, was afraid of what they could do, then pushing Elijah past his pragmatic sense of hospitality would be shooting herself in the foot. 

She didn’t fancy dying before getting her damn degree, thank you very much.

Hanne tore apart her strawberry croissant, taking each small piece into her mouth and letting it melt just to give her something to do. Even the hand-whipped cream and powdered sugar couldn’t soothe her ire. The iced latte sitting innocently next to it was the next object to take the brunt of her frustration, doing her best to be as annoying as possible and slurping it up loudly. She wasn’t stupid enough to chance as escape without a backup plan, but Hanne could try to annoy Elijah to death.

“You are quite lucky I am so fond of you. I would have killed another for such poor table manners.” Elijah drawled, walking into her bedroom. He offered her a smile, one to reassure her he was simply joking. Hanne didn’t return it.

“I find it odd you know my usual breakfast order.” Hanne said instead. 

“I am incredibly dedicated to those I care about. Of course, I would know your breakfast order.” 

“I know you are. And what poor barista did you compel into spilling my secrets? It was Lana, wasn’t it? That girl probably just wanted to help.” Hanne did him a favor and took a quieter sip as she shook her head at him.

“You say ‘I know’ with such conviction. Have any memories resurfaced?” He straightened, looking at her intently.

Elijah was the kind of man whose looks could literally kill. Stuck beneath his gaze, one became a butterfly pinned for display. He looked  _ into _ you, reached inside you, and rattled around your brain to see what would fall out. God help you if he found you lacking. Her croissant turned to ash in her mouth and she pushed the plate away.

“No,” She didn’t want to explain, but the disappointment in his eyes prompted her to at least try. If anything, if she pleased him enough with her answer, she might be able to go the hell home. “It’s more of a feeling. Sometimes, even when I can’t remember things, I just  _ know _ . Like playing the piano. I was never taught, my family doesn’t play, but-”

“But you know how.” Elijah stated. 

“I know that I knew how to play. That I can still play bits and pieces of Chopin, that Bach was hard on my hands.” Hanne smiled at a memory that never came. “Some things, I just know.”

“Iona was born a thousand years ago. You can not possibly know how to play the piano without having been taught in this lifetime.” Elijah’s eyes darkened. 

Hanne bit the inside of her cheek as recognition flickered to life. Every muscle tensed beneath his pressed suit, coiling like a lion about to attack. Hanne didn’t need to be an empath to see the carefully controlled rage he tried so hard to get a hold of. He must have come to the same conclusion her brother had when she’s spoken to him about it. That she wasn’t some miracle, that something more sinister was afoot.

“You’ve lived more than this life and life as Iona. How many?” Elijah asked.

“Not sure about the number. More than three, less than ten. But each end is just the same.” Hanne looked just over Elijah’s shoulder, eyes taking in the painting he’d hung for her when he caught her staring at it after trying to escape through the foyer. Elijah let her squirm her way out of his prying, if only because it allowed him to continue to observe her.

_ It was of a woman lying beneath a great tree. Her espresso curls fanned out around her, a cloud of hair so lovingly detailed. Soft buttery sunlight showed through the leaves, her creamy skin was dappled by a mix of leaf-shaped shadows and the gentle rays. Her sage green dress was worn but stitched with care, the cut of it from a time period she couldn’t place. The entire painting looked like it belonged amongst the sky, each painstaking brush stroke softer than a feather. The edges were unfinished, left raw and messy, casting it in a bittersweet light. _

_ “What do you see when you look at this painting?’ Elijah asked, coming to stand next to her. _

_ “Adoration. Affection?” Hanne felt a crease form between her brows, her expression searching as she gazed at the painting. “There’s something lonely about it, too.” _

_ “You know what I see?” Elijah asked softly. _

_ Hanne knew she didn’t need to answer, that he would voice his opinion regardless. But she could admit she wanted to know, what did the gentle Elijah see. If they were in a museum and a random man asked if she wanted his opinion, Hanne might have said no. But Elijah was no ordinary man. _

__

_ “What do you see?” _

_ “Devotion. Longing. An ache so cruel, the artist couldn’t finish the painting, and yet couldn’t get rid of the picture.” Elijah spoke so confidently, Hanne found herself nodding along to his words without even bothering to dissect them. _

_ Hanne let him steer her back to her quarters, her hand lifeless on his arm. All the while, her mind never strayed from the painting, a pang in her heart she didn’t quite like. The next morning, she’d awoken to see it in her room, mounted like a gift from a friend. Hanne wondered if that’s what Elijah thought he was to her. A friend. _

The painting looked just as beautiful as it had yesterday. Maybe even more so, after Elijah had shared his own thoughts. She could see the stutter in the strokes along the raw edges, the hitching of a breath that didn’t come out easily. The artist had felt agony in the last moments of the painting, each stroke harsher than the last. The weight of Elijah’s gaze as she stared was too much. Hanne finally broke, glancing away. 

She could feel him gathering his thoughts, processing and reprocessing everything about her. Hanne couldn’t even imagine what the inside of his mind looked like right now. Whatever he knew of her, was it the same? Did she truly look exactly the same as her first life, down to the number of lashes? The irony in her earlier words against Elena didn’t go unnoticed by her. A copy of a copy. 

Hanne was much the same, wasn’t she? Just a copy. 

“What is on your mind?” Elijah asked, a curious tilt to his head.

“I’m thinking of how very unremarkable I am. What makes me different from Elena?” Hanne leveled him with a long look, warning him to not interrupt to placate her. “What makes me different from a doppelgänger? Then again I don’t really know much about them.” 

“From what little I know of your current situation, you are much the same. The most glaring difference is that you are not a copy of the original. You are the original, born again and again. Does that not strike you as something extraordinary? That after all this time, you’ve come back?” He said it as if he believed it. It almost made Hanne want to believe, too.

“Without those memories, I’m nothing more than a copy.” Hanne threw back her comforter, readying herself to grab the tray and take it downstairs. She hadn’t seen a maid in the home yet, but surely someone like Elijah didn’t clean a house this big by himself. Hanne was many things, but an asshole to service workers she was not.

Elijah surprisingly let her go, a knowing smile on his face. Hanne had to shoot down her irritation at that gleeful look. Her silk pajamas and floor length lace robe fluttered behind her like wings as she drifted down the long spiraling staircase, her hands clutching tightly to the tray. The backing of it was a perfect silver, polished to reflect the world around her, and she grimaced as she caught a glimpse of her face. 

Dark crescents rested beneath her eyes, deep like the color of bruises. Despite the luxury around her and the comfort of nice clothes, Hanne looks exhausted and her face was set in an angry frown. No matter how hard she tried to smooth it over, the pinch between her brows refused to budge. Even her dark hair, usually so untamable, looked limp and lifeless. The sorry state of her hair was what drove her to look away.

Blue eyes arrested her. Klaus stood at the bottom of the stairs, and Hanne found herself rooted in place. He looked up at her, a wild fire of emotions blazing behind his burning gaze. When her frown only deepened, Hanne could practically see him laying down the first brick of a wall between them. Unlike his brother, Niklaus’ emotions were on display for the world to see. The weight of his expectations unnerved her more than Elijah’s hidden motives.

“I’ve spoken with my brother at length about this, and I’ve brought someone in who could help remedy your rather unfortunate situation. Then we get go about seeing to proper living arrangements. I’ve grown tired of living in a tiny apartment.” Klaus spoke like he expected her to break into a smile and thank him endlessly for his efforts.

Frankly, Hanne didn’t care what connection she had to these people. She just wanted to go back home, wash the load of laundry she’d been meaning to, and then go back to her dorm room. School was still very much a thing, and they were keeping her from it. As someone with a set plan for their future, any derailment was not looked upon favorably. But Hanne was in a precarious situation and so she bit the bullet.

“Thank you, I guess.” She gave a terse smile and made a move to pass him, but his large hand curled around her wrist, jostling the breakfast tray.

“Let me take care of that. Our friend is waiting in the other room, why don’t you join them?” His question wasn’t really a question, Hanne could hear it in the pitch of his voice. 

As much as Elijah protested her claims of being a hostage, that’s exactly what she was. A prisoner, a bird in a cage. Her prison was a luxurious mansion, but it was still a prison if you couldn’t leave. Copper ran down her throat when she swallowed, and Hanne realized she’d been biting the inside of her cheek to keep from spitting acidic words. She shoved the tray at him, stalking past him and ignoring his chuckling. 

It took her opening two doors to finally see what room he expected her to go into. A great set of heavy double doors give way to a darkly decorated office. The wood was mahogany, freshly oiled, and all documents put away. A large leather chair sat behind the monster of a desk, looking like a modern throne. The room boasted a large fire-place, a warm fire roaring in its pit. Off to the side was a velvet settee in deep burgundy, a young girl perched on it, eyes watchful. 

The charge in the air told Hanne she was a witch. Her thick inky box braids were slicked out of her face, intricate crescent-shaped hairpins keeping the pieces framing her face out of her tired brown eyes. She was of unspeakable beauty, gifted with molten gold in her gaze, such brilliant flecks reminiscent of stars hanging in the night sky. Dressed in a uniform befitting a private school, everything down to the pleats of her green skirt pressed and in place. She looked too young to be running with Klaus’ crowd, but Hanne had seen worse things happen to younger people.

“You’re the girl?” The schoolgirl asked.

“I’m pretty sure I’m older than you,” Hanne frowned. “But yes, I guess that’s me.”

“I’m a senior in high school,” She sniffed, a hint of a Creole accent to her words. “What are you, a sophomore?” 

“Now, now, Dorothée, that’s no way to treat a friend.” Klaus drawled, strolling into the room.

“We aren’t friends, Hybrid. I’m only here because I have to be.” Dorethée was trying to be strong, trying to be brave. But she was just a girl, in a den of a wolf much older than her. Her bottom lip trembled as she spoke. “I just want this over with so I can go home.”

“You have another hostage?” Hanne scowled at Klaus. “And she’s a child? Klaus...”

The look he gave her when she spoke his name aloud was a man who was savoring the first bite of a favorite food he’d missed for years. His eyes fluttered closed for a solid second, head tipping back. Hanne forced herself to look at Dorothée instead since Klaus didn’t seem to be willing to give any answers. 

“What’s he lording over you? Let me guess, he has your family at gunpoint.” Hanne says with a wry snort.

“Your girlfriend here is a little off.” Dorothée said as she eyed Hanne.

“She’s always been a bit strange.” Klaus chuckled. “It’s part of what makes her so endearing.”

“Not his girlfriend.” Hanne muttered.

“Well, whatever. Let’s get this over with, I have a tennis match tomorrow and I need to be on a bus back to New Orleans by tonight.” Dorothée got up and gestured for her to take her seat on the settee, her molten gaze somber.

Hanne eyed the door before sighing. The crushed velvet was heaven beneath her hands and she absently wondered how much it had cost. A drink was shoved into her hands, the smiling face of a two-tailed mermaid on the cup laughing at her. Even the lid couldn’t contain the odious scent. A bitter mix of dead florals and something coppery mingled to make an unholy smell, and Hanne shoved the cup away from her face.

“There’s no way I’m drinking that. What is that, rat poison?”

“It’s part of the ritual. You need to drink some of his blood, he’s a direct link to your past.” Dorothée said with a frown. 

“What’s the other stuff?” Hanne asked.

“Trust me, the blood is the least of your worries.” Dorothée muttered, lifting the cup to Hanne once more. 

The Starbucks cup felt heavy in her hand, the two-tailed mermaid still smiling. The closer it got to her mouth, the worse it smelt, and Hanne had to plug her nose before taking a sip. It tasted terrible and the texture was even worse. She tried to chug it, but it clung to the walls of her throat like cement, threatening to choke her. Dorothée helped hold the cup steady, whispering the beginnings of an incantation.

Just as the last drop passed Hanne’s lips, her eyes rolled back and she slumped against the couch. The cup fell from her hands as her arms went limp, the cup dropping and breaking open. What was left of the potion dribbled out, spreading around as the cup rolled through it and under the great desk. Klaus paid rapt attention to Hanne’s prone figure, his lips pressed to a thin line.

Dorothée rested her fingertips on Hanne’s temples with a feather-light touch. Her mouth opened of her own accord, the witch's lips parted in a silent shriek. A voice no longer only hers spat out lives born and then cruelly snuffed, the echoes of time spinning a tale of endless bloodshed. Hanne’s life was a tangle of memory and sorrow, an infinite loop of birth and death, a snake eating its own tail, a coil of terrifyingly short lives.

“Iona. Archer, a man’s hands wrapped around her throat, her fingertips tainted berry redredredred. Alise, Pendle witch trials, the fire burns so hot she can feel it scorch her bones before the world goes silent.” Every life Dorothée can pull from the stream of memories slips through her fingers before she can even process what it is she’s seeing. 

Few names slip past her lips, their deaths becoming hers until she finds herself coming into the world once more, wailing with small lungs and smaller hands. She can barely wade through the ocean crush of remembering before the water of time pulls her under and leaves her breathless once more. Blood trickled from her nose, and a glance at Hanne showed a mirror image. 

“Blythe,” Dorothée gasps out.”The eighteen-hundreds, a hand in hers-”

This is the memory Hanne clings onto. Jealously, she guards it against the unseen hands that pry through her consciousness. Yowling, Hanne swipes sluggishly at the witch in front of her. Dorothée tries to resteer, her own blood dripping into her mouth. Everything is turning murky and Dorothée knows her time is out. She stumbles away from Hanne with a gasp, her molten eyes snapping open. Hanne still lays prone, her chest heaving as tears run down her flushed cheeks.

“It’s a curse. One so old and embedded that I can’t even  _ see _ it.” Dorotheé panted. “She’s definitely Iona. Whatever is making her come back after death is older than even you.”

Klaus stares. 

And stares. 

And then he smiles. A blinding smile, his dimples making their appearance and his eyes crinkling. He looks like a man who has won the lottery and the laugh he lets out is disbelieving, notes of incurable happiness mingling. He hands Dorothée a handkerchief that he pulled from God knows where, his good mood pulling a tentative smile from the young witch.

Hane finally sits up, her eyelids heavy like they’d been glued shut. She pries them open, trying to pull herself to her feet, and only ends up stumbling. Klaus flashes to her and catches her in his arms, gently setting her back onto the couch. He releases a strangled chuckle as she incoherently curses his name six ways to Sunday. Hanne swallows the mouthful of drool that’d been collecting in her mouth, inwardly cackling at his grimace.

“She’s going to be out of it for a while. Maybe you should clean that up before she slips and falls in it or something?” Dorothée uses her chin to point at the gunky cup. 

Klaus, the formidable hybrid and one half of the duo that has taken her hostage, does as she asks. He’s in a daze, mind lost to memories of a place Hanne cannot follow him to. It’s clear that he’s neck-deep in remembering if the slow gait he uses is anything to go by. 

“He’s surprisingly attractive for a serial killing freak of nature.” The young witch says under her breath.

“Careful, he might eat your heart for that.” Hanne said dryly.

Dorothée waved her concern way. “He’s been called way worse by his own family. I doubt a lowly witch like me is even on his radar when it comes to insults.”

“And I doubt you’re a lowly witch. If you were, he would never have used you. Say what you want about him, but he obviously values quality.” Hanne fought off a yawn, feeling boneless in her seat. “I’m guessing you have a long history with him?”

“My family has worked for the Mikaelsons for decades now. Ever since the nineteen-twenties.” Dorothée said matter of factly. “Now, let me take a look at you. There shouldn’t be any permanent fallout from the ritual, but you never know how a body will react to a spell.”

Hanne expected her to come forward and give her a rudimentary once over, but Dorothée surprised her by placing a silencing finger to her lips. Dorothée stepped over to her purse and pulled out a stack of post-it notes along with a pencil. She wrote in long looping cursive, each word perfectly aligned as if written on a ruler. Hanne was momentarily jealous, thinking of her own ugly chicken-scratch. 

The yellow stack of post-it notes was shoved under her nose, and Hanne cautiously took it from her, eyes soaking in the words.

_ Don’t talk. Just nod. Do you have a family looking for you?  _ Nod.

Dorothée took the stack once more, writing down another question.

_ Are they strong?  _ Hanne had to ponder that one. Her family was decently strong individually, but together? They could probably get her out of this trash fire of a situation. 

If they could find her, that is. Nod.

“Perfect.” Dorothée gave a bladed smile. She lights up with a vicious satisfaction that Hanne immediately finds endearing. Her mouth moves with silent words and she closes her eyes for the briefest of moments. 

The second Dorothée opens them again, Hanne can feel her arm tingling. Dorothée wastes no time in crumbling up and tossing the used post-it notes into the fire, any evidence of her betrayal going up in flames. The shy legs of a moth tickle Hanne’s scared arm as the moth makes its way slowly down her arm. It’s inky wings flutter gently, making the edges of her silk pajama top sleeve look like it’s pulsating. Finally, the moth emerges.

It’s curious antennae flit over Hanne’s fingertips before taking flight, heading straight for one of the windows of the office. Dorothée opens it, spilling a hasty lie about Hanne needing fresh air. Out the window the moth goes, disappearing in the wind. Dorothée stands by the window, her eyes never leaving the moth even after it disappears from view.

Hanne absently touches the crook of her elbow where the moth had come from. If one were to move her sleeve up, there would be a large blank space in the middle of a painstakingly drawn tattoo. Surrounded by flowers and leaves, the Death's-head Hawkmoth had completed the image of death and rebirth. At a glance, nobody would know it’d been drawn in magic ink and heavily spelled. Hanne fought back a mean smile, knowing it wouldn’t be long now.

Dorothée leaves when Klaus comes back, paper towels and some eco-friendly spray bottle in his hand. Klaus sees her curious look and grins, dimples making an appearance. 

“This is good news. Now that it’s certain that you are in fact Iona, we can work on breaking that pesky curse of yours.” Klaus said.

The quiet implication that if she’d been anyone but Iona, she would have been slaughtered without a moment of hesitance went unsaid. She could see the violence swimming beneath the grey-blue pool of Klaus’ eyes. A man prone to violence was usually a man prone to temper, and she knew she’d have to tread this road carefully- at least until her family arrived. Safety in numbers was a basic rule of survival. That her numbers consisted of monsters full of rage from her disappearance was just luck.

Elijah sauntered into the room, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. With both brothers in the room, she could feel suffocated. They each had a powerful presence, enough to fill the room and make her dizzy with a lack of air. You wouldn’t expect them to even be related without their ability to command a room simply by walking into it. Though of the same height and complexion, that’s where the similarities ended.

Broad-shouldered and clearly gifted with a strong body, Elijah stood and looked like a nobleman. Dark hair perfectly combed from his face, and darker eyes that tracked every movement in the room, Elijah was a politician looking for an opening. Klaus, on the other hand, was all lean lines. With his sandy Botticelli curls and perfect dimples, Klaus was a man fit for the Renaissance. All artful hands and the pursuit of hedonistic pleasures. 

“I’ve lived too many lives to just be Iona.” Hanne said lightly, as to not disturb the monsters in the room before her.

“Iona with a twist,” Klaus teased, red-stained lips twisting into a smirk. “I delight in learning everything about the lives you’ve lived, sweetheart.”

Hanne scowled. His accent was a unique kind of British, each word more of a drawl that made it impossible to place. Elijah’s voice was more of a stuffy upper-crust American, one that spoke of old money and deep pockets. If she cared, Hanne would ask why they didn’t share the same accent. She could only stumble with the thought that perhaps Elijah was a try-hard who liked to fit in with the locals. 

“I guess I’m going to go back into my room.” Hanne said awkwardly. “I should...rest and all that.”

“Good idea,” Elijah murmured. 

It looked like Klaus was about to object, but Elijah placed a hand on his shoulder. With a sigh, Klaus nodded and Hanne shot out of the room.

* * *

Dorothée hummed softly to herself, tossing her clothing into her Louis Vuitton suitcase. Nothing could bring down her good mood, not when she was finally going to go home. Oh, she couldn’t wait to sleep in her own bed again. These quaint bed and breakfast sheets were nice for what they were, but Dorothée could admit she was growing bored with the small-town life.

Hopefully, that lady from earlier had been saved by her family by now. She knew it’d been risky to uplift whatever cloaking spell Klaus had placed on her- the hybrid’s wrath coming down on her and her family would be the death of them. But she couldn’t stand seeing someone in Klaus’ clutches. That freak of nature shouldn’t be allowed to exist, let alone harass other people. Hanne had a family out there, looking for her. They would have found her eventually, and if Dorothée had made it sooner rather than later?

Nobody would know. At least, if Hanne keeps her mouth shut.

Her phone lit up from the bedside table, rattling against the cheap wood. Dorothée would have ignored it if it hadn’t been her manman’s contact picture flashing on the screen. Without any help from her visions, Dorothée knew something was up. She inhaled sharply through her teeth before picking up the phone.

“Hello?  _ Manman _ ?” Dorothée asked, brows drawing close.

“ _ Mô bébé _ ? Are you still in Virginia?” Her mother’s soft voice was a comfort. No luxury item nor expensive meal could ever compare to just hearing her mother call her her baby. Not that any teenager would ever admit that to her mother.

“Sadly, yes. I’ll be heading out of this one pony town and back home soon. Do you think _ pap  _ could make me some of his famous beignets? I’m in a need of a little comfort food.” Dorothée smiled at the mere thought of her father’s fluffy, heavenly beignets.

“ _ Bébé _ , I’m going to need you to stay in town for a little longer. I know that dealing with the Mikaelsons is a scary endeavor, but they are truly worthy allies to have. We must foster that connection as much as we can.” Her mother sternly reminded her. “But enough about that crazy family, manman has another job for you to undertake.”

Dorothée knew better than the release the irritated sigh she was holding in. Her mother wasn’t just her mother, she was the best-damned witch in New Orleans. Being the apart of the Laville coven was already an honor; being the child of the matriarch herself was basically a gift, and Dorothée never ever turned her nose up at a gift. Even if it meant staying in the backwoods town that is Mystic Falls.

“What kind of job?” Dorothée asked, voice carefully controlled.

She was already mentally planning the excuse she’d give to her tennis coach. She can’t believe she was missing her match after all. 

“That’s my girl. It’s nothing really, I just peeped into those journals your _ gwo-matant _ Maggie left behind. Apparently, there is some kind of secret society at Whitmore…”

\--------------------------------------------

Hanne sat across from Klaus in silence. The table couldn’t stretch out long enough, she thought, as she picked at her food. Elijah sat next to her, a steady companion whose silence helped keep her calm. She understood he was trying to provide some comfort, but he and his brother were not the kind of people one could take comfort in. 

The spread was simple fare but something about it rang so familiarly to her. Roasted meats and stewed fish sat in fancy dishes, with a thick loaf of seeded bread still steaming daring her to take a bite. Klaus had insisted on a celebratory dinner and had seemingly pulled out all the stops. She could feel his gaze as she tried to eat, and it made her want to toss her glass of mead into his face.

She knew what he was trying to do. He must be hoping that if he tried hard enough, if he could find anything tied to their past together, he could get her to open up to him and maybe remember the life they had. 

But...Klaus wasn’t someone Hanne even wanted to remember. Nor Elijah for that matter.

For all that was wrong with her, Klaus’ list seemed miles long. Seeing even a glimpse of it had her dead set on not remembering. His frustration was growing, she could feel it even across the table. She chanced a peek at him, rolling her eyes as he sank his double set of fangs into one of the many girls he keeps around to feed on. They’d made themselves scarce while Elijah had been here, but now that the king was back in his castle, they fluttered about the mansion with their gold skirts and white smiles.

Elijah sent her a small smile as if to console her. Hanne speared a potato and sighed at him, the two sharing a look at Klaus’ eating habits. While neat, did he have to indulge at the dinner table? If any of the girls got blood in her food, Hanne just might kill them.

One of the girls, Kristina, brought out the last dish of the night. Her parents enjoyed nice things, but Klaus had a knack for the ostentatious. His desires bordered on being gaudy, and Hanne wondered if he realized how sad and desperate it made him seem. In fact, she was surprised at home understated the silverware was. Though there were more forks than she wanted to deal with at the moment, they were simple silver ones without a trace of embellishments.

“I’m surprised your forks aren’t made out of gold,” Hanne muttered, taking a small bite of her bread.

“This home is actually one of Elijah's estates. Rest assured, my home will be outrageous.” Klaus said it with a smirk and a look in his eye like he thought Elijah’s tastes to be underwhelming. Elijah was too proper to roll his eyes, but the frown he sent Klaus was chiding.

“I like understated things,” Elijah said. “Not gaudy decorations fit for a child.”

“Ouch.” Hanne whispered to herself.

“Oh, Elijah. Why settle when you could have the world at your feet? That’s what I’ll never understand about you. Speaking of which, I have some blueprints I would like you to look over- what is it?” Klaus flashed to her side, hand gripping hers.

Her eyes had become cloudy with tears that gathered at her lashes and threatened to spill over. Kristina hovered nearby, her expression becoming confused. The plate she’d just set down in front of Hanne wasn’t the most beautiful dessert she’s ever seen, but the scent of it alone was delicious. She didn’t get it. The scent alone wasn’t enough to make her cry, so why was she crying? 

“Because it was your favorite.” Klaus murmured softly. She hadn’t even noticed she’d spoken out loud. He was trying to sound gentle, but the gleam in his eyes was positively triumphant as he swept the hair from her face.

It was just a simple piece of sweet-smelling bread, covered with wild berries and hazelnuts, slathered generously in honey. But something about the berries was so achingly familiar. Carefully, she used her fork to cut off a piece of the bread, closing her eyes as it melted on her tongue. The berries burst, a wild tartness mingling with the fresh sweetness of the honey. It scratched at her brain, and as she swallowed, she was dragged into a distant place despite the brother’s soft questions.

Fragments of a hand-stained by the same kind of berries she was eating entered her mind. It entranced her, the way berries could be used for something other than eating. A calloused hand with long fingers reaching out to touch her cheeks with the utmost care, painting on her skin. The memory morphed, spinning and dilating into wisps so unstable that her mind cannot latch onto them. Far off mental snapshots of a carved wood figurine being laid onto her upturned palm, disembodied laughter and the scent of a crackling fire teases her. 

None of it stays.

It washes away when she opens her eyes. The brother’s are still at her side, their gazes searching. It’d been too fast, too brief to catalog. Nonsensical but stubborn, those few memories try to take root in her brain only to leave her mind feeling foggy. The room is shifting around her and she stands suddenly, the chair pushing back with a terrible screech across the tiled floor.

Hanne steps away from the table and looks anywhere else. Mouth opening and closing like a fish, Hanne settles for gritting her teeth and pushing her palms into her teary eyes. Klaus clasps her wrists and pries her hands from her eyes, his gunmetal gaze trying to peel back her mask to find the aching beneath. A ringing of a phone ruins the moment. Stefan's name flashed on the screen and Hanne wanted to howl with rage.

“Oh, goodie. The traitor is calling.” Hanne scowled. 

“Come now, don’t let him spoil the mood.” Elijah said softly, rubbing small circles on her upper back.

“Now love, he was only trying to reunite us.” Klaus chided with a scowl of his own before he answered. 

A woman’s scream spilled through the phone, a voice both unfamiliar and not. Klaus lit up with anger, but Elijah is who Hanne watched. Emotions thicker than tar dragged across his face in slow motion; anger, hurt, fear...love. If one wasn’t accustomed to watching people, they would never notice the slight hitch to his breath, the shudder to his body. Elijah was coming unglued, and Hanne stepped away just in case he lost it.

“Katerina,” Elijah breathed.

* * *

The apartment complex they’d pulled up to looked underwhelming compared to the opulence that was Elijah’s home. Everything, from the spartan furniture to the carefully handled artifacts hanging around the room, told of a nerdy bachelor. It was likely a long story, Hanne thought, as she eyed Stefan and Katherine. The sight of her in modern clothes warred against the tales from Stefan’s memories of extravagant dresses.

“I see you’ve gotten Katherine’s message,” Stefan said.

“Katerina.” Elijah was back to his cold, uncaring facade. 

“Elijah,” Katherine whispered. “It’s been a while.”

Katherine turned her attention to Hanne, her calculating eyes a shade darker than Elena’s own. Her hair hung to the small of her back in wide curls, a shiny mane that completed the feeling of being stared down by a lioness. The jut to her chin could make anyone feel small, but Hanne has already lived with Erika Nyland and such a look no longer bothered her. She shut her eyes briefly at the thought of her mother and stepped further into the apartment.

“She is pretty, sure, but nothing special.” Katherine drawled. “A bit sad looking, if not blank eyed.”

Hanne rolled her eyes at her. “I have a feeling I might like you better when you’re screaming.”

Katherine smirks at her, stepping forward like she knows her own body and is exactly aware of how beautiful she is. Stefan steps between them, his back slightly to Hanne as if he were shielding her from Katherine. Hanne bristled, immediately stepping away from them both. It meant she was unfortunately closer to Klaus, and he gave her a smug look that she pointedly ignored for the sake of her sanity.

“Now that you’ve gotten our attention and ruined our family dinner, what could you possibly want?” Klaus asked slowly. 

Stefan swallows, his juniper eyes bouncing between Hanne and Klaus. “I need your help. Damon’s been bitten.”

Klaus let out a low whistle. “That’s rather unfortunate. And it’ll have to wait a moment, I have a prior engagement to fulfill.” He stepped past Stefan and went off into the bedroom part of the apartment, knowing Stefan wouldn’t dare to move an inch with Elijah and an angry Hanne in the room.

“You must understand,” Elijah started, staring Stefan down. “Family comes first. He promised to reunite me with the rest of our siblings, you see.”

“And I will.” Klaus said. Hanne didn’t even see him move. In the time it took for her to blink, Klaus had shoved a dagger into his brother’s heart. 

Her scream strangled itself in her throat, phasing through the coffee table to hastily climb the back of the couch. Hanne hovered against the wall, watching Klaus whisper softly to his brother, gently lowering him to the ground. Elijah’s eyes were still open, staring at the wall blankly as his skin began to turn grey. Thick dusty blue veins began to crawl across his body, causing Hanne’s stomach to roll.

Death itself was a bit of a joke to Hanne. Sure, she and her family thought of it as a sacred moment, an intimate moment, between her kind and the humans they ate. It was a cruel kind of punchline, you know? One rarely sees coming, but it  _ always _ comes. But seeing Klaus dagger his own brother didn’t shock her because she was stuck looking at a corpse. She did that kind of thing on the daily, between hunting and working as her dad’s morgue assistant. 

No, what devastated her was the absolute betrayal on Elijah’s face.

“You killed your own brother.” Hanne whispered. Stefan flashed to her side, standing on the ground, allowing Hanne to grip his shoulder for silent support. She towered over him on her perch on the back of the couch, looking like a bird of prey despite being in a set of lavender silk pajamas.

“Killed? No, of course not. I’ve simply daggered him and will wake him when it’s time for our family to truly reunite.” Klaus said, stepping away from his brother. He shot her an incredulous look, as if he were offended she thought he killed his own brother.

“Don’t give me that look, you just stabbed him with a dagger. Healthy minded people don’t stab their siblings.” Hanne mumbled, knuckles going white.

“Not unless they have a good reason,” Stefan interjected. He was trying to calm her down with his jokes, but Hanne could feel him trembling. 

“Damon doesn’t count, he’s a jerk.” Hanne said under her breath.

Katherine’s nearly perfect poker face wasn’t enough to bury the shock and fear in her eyes, her lips pursing tightly as she stared down at Elijah. A step forward with her red bottom shoes before she forced herself back again, arms crossing as if to hold herself together. 

So what if Elijah wasn’t dead? Elijah still had been downed by some he should be safe with. If even Klaus’ brother wasn’t safe from him-what did that say for her? Hanne had too many goals to die by the likes of Klaus. She promised herself she’d make it past thirty this time around. She promised she’d see the world, learned it’s secrets.

Her dreams were coming crashing down around her and the sledgehammer was a man with a devil’s smile.

“What are you, a goat? Get down from there.” Klaus scowled, bending and lifting Elijah easily. 

Hanne had a hysterical thought to bleat at him, but her attention was snagged by the silver outline surrounding Elijah’s body. A perfect outline of Elijah overlaid with his prone form, and Hanne had to blink to look past the double vision. If she was right, then that dagger was literally holding Elijah’s soul to his body. It confirmed Klaus’ claim that he hadn’t killed his brother, but that didn’t ease Hanne’s trepidation towards the man.

“Gods above,” Hanne whispered. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

Stefan lends Hanne a hand, helping her step down. The second he drops it, he and Klaus are face to face and there is a wooden spike in Stefan’s chest. For once, Hanne curses what she is. She’d love to flash right out of the room right now. Her fingertips are hardly turning black, any energy she could call upon sputtering like a shitty engine. A pounding began at her temples and sweat began to bead across her forehead. Without a soul in sight and running on empty, Hanne was well and truly fucked if Klaus turned on her.

“It’s more than a tickle. It hurts, doesn’t it? You see, it’s scraping against that heart of yours.” Klaus said.

From where she stood, she could see the fear and pain in Stefan’s green eyes. He’s sputtering for air, face etched in agony. It tickles a part of her to see him suffering after his betrayal, she could admit. But the part of her that had spent hours upon hours just  _ talking _ with Stefan, smiling and laughing, hurt as if she’d been the one stabbed.

Katherine steps in before she can decide what to act upon. “He is only trying to help his brother, you know.”

“The witches- they said you have a cure for a werewolf bite. Please, Klaus.” Stefan gasps out. “I’ll make you a deal, I’ll do anything you want. Just please let me help my brother.”

Klaus pulls out the wooden stake and ponders Stefan’s proposition, looking positively bored.”With this useless, weaker version of yourself? I think not.”

As if he hadn’t just stabbed a man in the chest, Klaus goes to the counter and pours himself a decanter of blood. He swirls it in the glass and scents it before taking a small sip, as if at a wine tasting.

“Stefan, don’t be stupid. Don’t ask for things from him,” Hanne hisses. Klaus spares her a smirk before going back to his drink.

“I’ll do anything.” Stefan repeats, his desperation growing.

“I want nothing from the shadow of the man in front of me. Now...the Ripper of Monterey? He is someone I could cut a deal with. That man was magnificent. Inspiring, in fact.” 

Hanne knows this story. Stefan had shared it with her one night, both of them abusing their supernatural metabolisms and drinking their weight in alcohol. Stefan had tears in his eyes and she had to beg him to stay, to finish his tale of horror and bloodshed. Hanne never begged, but something about Stefan made her stupid, made her desperate. Before Klaus had come into her life, she would have thought herself lucky to have a man like Stefan at her side. 

But no matter how momentarily she forgot about his betrayal, it always came rushing back in, a roaring in her ears. The village he had ripped apart, the children he’d drank from like they were bottles of fine wine- his regret consumed him. And she saw it in his eyes, the self-hatred he wore like a second skin.

She let them continue, edging towards the door slowly.

“I’m not that man anymore. Haven’t been for a long time.” Stefan said evenly.

“And that’s a terrible shame. That man is a man I could make a deal with.” Klaus shrugged, beckoning Katherine over with a careless flick of his wrist.

The sight of her makes Hanne shiver. Her liquid brown eyes turn lifeless, glazed over by compulsion. She’s never heard about a vampire being compellable. Klaus has the steady satisfaction of someone in control of a terrible situation, a smirk never leaving his face. If Hanne believed in the devil, she’d swear Klaus was him. Without hesitation, Klaus grabs a hold of Katherine’s arm and sinks his razor-sharp fangs in.

Her olive skin blooms with disease where he bit her. Instead of healthy bright blood, it was darker as the infection started to set in. It was fast acting then, Hanne noticed with mild interest. Immediately, Katherine was starting to breathe heavily. 

“Sweating, swaying on her feet…” Hanne rattled off, taking a small step closer to investigate further. “Can I see it?”

Katherine shot her an ugly look, gritting her teeth. “No! What’s wrong with you?”

“She’s always been like this, she just wants to see it.” Klaus waves off. “Indulge her, will you?”

His question isn’t really a question, and Katherine knows it. She grudgingly gives Hanne her wrist, crying out when Hanne pokes near the injection spot. Hanne pokes it again for good measure. 

“Any blurry vision? Feel drooly?’ Hanne askes, peering closely at Katherine’s face as if memorizing it. 

She can barely contain the giddy feeling of watching the venom work it’s magic. It’s one thing to see the after-effects in a corpse she’s given to dissect, but to watch it as it happens was oddly captivating. Forensic pathology really was a beautiful thing, she’d be the first to say- but watching it live was so much more interesting. The smile on her face was already starting to hurt her cheeks.

“Alright, that’s enough.” Klaus steps forward, voice laced with irritation. “Watch this.” 

Klaus bit into his own wrist, the sound of his flesh tearing drawing Hanne’s attention. His hand cradles the back of Katherine’s head and he forces his wrist to her mouth, ignoring her words of rejection. She jerks against Hanne’s hold and Klaus shakes her head by her hair for her act of rebellion. Hanne waits with bated breath to see what will happen next.

Right before her eyes, Katherine’s bloody wrist heals itself. Vampire blood was known for its immense healing properties, sure, but there was no known cure for werewolf venom in a vampire’s bloodstream. What she was seeing was pure magic. The antidote was Klaus’ blood, and his blood alone, and Hanne knew he would never share it without receiving something in return.

He’d just made another move. This chess game between Stefan and Klaus had been over before it even started. Hanne’s eyes drift to the door of her own accord, mentally debating the pros and cons.

“Trying to leave so soon?” Katherine asked with a sneer.

“And here I thought you’d enjoy talking to the one who really sold you out.” Klaus drawled, putting a companionable arm around Stefan. He forced Stefan to walk with him, the two of them standing at the island counter like old drinking buddies about to reminisce. 

“What?” Hanne’s eyes narrowed at Katherine. "Oh, you bitch."

“Elijah might have mentioned your name once or twice,” Katherine admitted slowly. “It’s impressive, I’ll admit. Being on the run from Klaus is a grueling task, and we are the only two who have ever managed. Almost makes us like sisters, don’t you think?”

“I was never on the run from him. Besides, Elijah thought I was dead.” Hanne points out.

“Luckily, I know a few people who know a few people. Like that poor Slater. He knew all about you, you know. Or at least he said he did.” Katherine shrugged. “You’d been listed as an anomaly. Anyone with a brain in a world like ours would take interest in that. An old beau of mine sent me his way, and once I saw you…”

“You knew you could sell me out.” Hanne added on, jaw ticking.

“Hey now, I might have let it slip to the Salvatore's that I had an insurance plan. What they did with it is no fault of mine.”

“How did you even know I was the same person, not some dopplegänger like you?”

“My kind is rare, “ Katherine sniffed. “Besides, I’ve seen a few portraits of you before. I’ll admit I hadn’t put together that they were all of the same woman, but seeing you on Slater’s screen just proved it. Klaus is quite enamored with you, you know.”

“That’s a funny word for obsessed,” Stefan gasped out from across the room, mouth dribbling with blood. Clutched in his hand was a blood bag, one of many beginning to pile on the counter. Klaus looked all too pleased with himself, but his look soured when Stefan spoke.

“She is my family. I would never leave her behind, and I never will.” Klaus snarled. 

He stood toe to toe with Stefan, expression no longer friendly. He looked like a beast coming undone, wild was the anger swirling in his veins. Klaus shoves another blood bag Stefan’s way. Stefan, for all his petulance, sucks at it like an angry toddler with a Capri sun. A red bottle appears in his hand, thick viscous fluid swishes within it, and Hanne can see Stefan’s shoulders slump in relief.

“Katherine, do be a dear and take this to-” Klaus was cut off, his hand empty. Katherine had snatched it and ran,

“She’ll never take it to him!” Stefan cried out. Klaus only gives him a smirk and a shrug, as if saying ‘what can you do?’. 

“Hmm. Pity.”

* * *

The storage unit was cold and Hanne barely registered it, having grown used to the cold. Four caskets were being loaded into the unit, Elijah’s body filling one of them. Hanne could appreciate the beauty of a casket; the faint scent of lacquer, the exquisite craftsmanship that many modern practices have left behind. Hanne has seen many a coffin and casket in this lifetime, but hardly does she see ones of such expense. 

“Walnut, huh? Pricey.” She mutters, dragging the tips of her fingers across the shiny surface.

“Used to seeing caskets, sweetheart?” Klaus asks in amusement.

“I work part-time at my family morgue and funeral home. I see more than just caskets.” Hanne drops her hand to eye him. How much has Elijah gotten to tell him, before he daggered him?

“You’ve always had an interest in the dead.” Klaus is reminiscing with a fondness that makes Hanne grit her teeth.

“Don’t act like you know me.” She was tired of him making assumptions about her, even if she knew in her bones he was right. “You knew me, but not this me. So don’t pretend like you do.”

“Dearest, I’d know you blind.” Klaus says lowly, eyes growing dark. 

His words were a challenge that popped something in her like a deflated balloon. She looked away from him, eyes back on the casket. She’s never liked eye contact, but this was more than just looking at each other. The resemblance to Elijah had never been more clear until now. He was prying her apart at the seams with his gaze, trying to peer inside, hungry for something Hanne didn’t want to give him. Stefan catches her eye and they share a frown.

“Stefan, I’ve brought you a gift.” Klaus, like always, pulls both of their attention away from each other. “Come out, sweetheart.”

“And here I’d hoped sweetheart was a personal endearment,” Hanne sneered, watching a petrified human girl walk around the corner.

“Jealous, love?” Klaus taunts, clapping a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “I would compel her, but the hunt is always a Ripper’s favorite part.”

He shoves her forward, entirely the master giving their beloved snake a live mouse. The distinct feeling of being behind the glass hit Hanne, and she wondered if she were another snake or another mouse. The girl stumbles when she runs, and Hanne can only watch with a detached sort of interest. Even an Olympic athlete would have trouble outrunning a vampire. She’s snatched up in Stefan’s arms within a moment, black veins crawling down the thin skin beneath his eyes. 

They lock eyes once more, and Hanne gets a front-row seat to the death of her best friend’s resistance. He’s overcome by the current Klaus cast him in and his teeth ease into the girl's neck like a hot knife through butter.

“Don’t feel so sorry for him, love. In a way, I’m thanking him for his service.” Klaus’ grin makes her skin crawl but she rolls her eyes at him anyway.

“You could have at least brought me someone to eat too.” Hanne mutters with indignation. She’s a petulant child, she can admit. She hasn’t told them what she needs, what she is, and yet she faults them for not giving it to her anyhow. 

A Reaper’s gotta eat, too.


	3. Oceans of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN: Klaus is a prick and gets in his own way but what else is new? Reminder that he’s Klaus and that Hanne is going to make this into one hell of a slow burn. But I’ll be feeding crumbs every now and then, since he’s trying to do a speed run lol. Hope everyone is doing well!! <3 Till next time! Enjoy Halloween!
> 
> Also, Hel as in from Norse mythology. Not like Hell haha

Being driven around the country with a truck bed full of desiccated vampires wasn’t how she thought she’d be spending her summer. Hanne stares listlessly out the window, scratching at her inked arm. The moth hasn’t found its way back, which means it must have been stopped by something. 

Dorotheé had lifted the cloaking spell on her, but being constantly on the move helped nobody. If she didn’t know any better, she would have said Klaus knew this. But as smart as Klaus was, he wasn’t omniscient. He’d simply gotten incredibly lucky that the moth spell was terribly simple one.

If they kept moving, her family would never find her. They didn’t have heightened noses, couldn’t sniff her out, and her brother Jae-Joon wasn’t even a witch. He was a sorcerer of many gifts, but tracking spells weren’t one of them. She catches Stefan’s eyes in the rearview mirror, his jaw clenched and brows sorrowful. He nudged the back of her seat a few times to catch her attention, but she couldn’t bear looking at his traitorous face.

Klaus, for the most part, was acting like this was a twisted family road trip. He mouthed a few of the words streaming from the radio, giving her a flash of white teeth every time he caught her staring. Her spark of amusement didn’t go unnoticed by him, and his smile only grew.

“Hanne. Hey, Hanne,” Stefan whispered from behind her. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I knew he wouldn’t hurt you, but I’m still sorry-”

“You didn’t know. You took a chance anyways. Don’t pretend otherwise, Stefan.” Hanne drawled, ignoring his sharp intake of breath and reaching to turn the dial of the radio up.

“It’s best to leave her alone right now, mate. She’s not going to let it go anytime soon.” Klaus sent a wry smirk through the rearview mirror, eyebrows shooting up when Stefan sneers at him.

“But I knew. Hanne, I would never put you in danger on purpose.” Stefan begged over the music.

“He could have had an age-old vendetta against me and wanted to use my entrails for jump rope, you prick.” Hanne whipped around, baring her blunt teeth at him. She holds up a hand when Klaus opens his mouth to interrupt, silencing him. “You gambled with my life, with somebody who could actually hurt me. He’s an Original, stupid! You are a child compared to him.”

“In my defense, I didn’t really know about the Originals.” Stefan muttered. “And again, I’d never have taken that chance. Katherine told us what little Elijah had told her. He’s, like, obsessed with you.”

“I. Don’t. Believe. You.” Hanne said through gritted teeth.

“Can you quit painting me as some psychopathic stalker? You’ve no idea what Hanne means to me. What she means to my _ family _ .”Klaus replied, glaring through the mirror.

“And we’ve seen how much you care about your family,” Stefan said sarcastically. 

“Eyes on the road! And can you blame him? I still don’t have a clue what’s going on here. You knew me. So what?’ Hanne sighed. “I don’t see what that has to do with me now.”

“‘So what?’ There is no ‘so what’ when it comes to us. When your memories come back, you’ll understand.” Klaus said confidently.

“What if they never come back? Are you going to hold her hostage forever?” Stefan’s brows were pinched, his juniper eyes dark with worry.

The truck came to a harsh stop, the wheels squealing on the asphalt. Hanne swung forward but was stopped by a steel limb, Klaus’ shaking arm keeping her from smashing her head on the dashboard. Stefan hadn’t been so lucky. He groaned from the back, face-pulling away from Hanne’s headrest with a wet sound. She turned back to see his nose was off to the side, blood dripping down his lips. It made a disgustingly wet noise as he snapped it back in place.

“Her memories are going to come back.” Klaus’ voice was an iron sword, the edge of it biting. “They have to. I can wait it out.”

“You might just be waiting for forever.” Stefan grunted, wiping away the blood.

They continued the drive in silence. Each passing moment was stacking on top of the one before, crowding in on Hanne and amounting to an unbearable hunger. She could feel her energy draining, could notice the lethargy in her movements.

Her and Stefan said nothing else to each other. She had nothing left to say, and she knew he didn’t want to continue this conversation in front of Klaus. Even Klaus’ good mood had soured, his lips pursed and forehead riddled with lines.

She knew what she was about to ask wasn’t kind. That it was manipulative, and cruel. But she was so hungry.

“Stop the car.” Hanne whispered, eyes locked on the weary face of a dirt speckled young woman. Her thumb went down and a look of relief washed over her face as Klaus slowed the car to a crawl.

“What is it, love? Bored already?” Kluas mused, brows pinching together. His eyes shone with curiosity and an anticipation that Hanne didn’t want to indulge.

But she was starving.

“Just stop the car.” Hanne ordered, unbuckling her seat belt.

“Are you sure about this?” Stefan said, reaching around her seat to grip her shoulder. “Hanne, think about it for a second. Do you want to do this?”

‘In front of Klaus’ went unsaid between the two of them. She didn’t want Klaus to know anymore of her than he already apparently did, but people didn’t always get what they wanted, did they? Hanne shrugged him off and opened up her door, her movements jerky and weak. Already, she could feel the relief that feeding would bring her. The white hot iron in her stomach blazed brighter for the briefest of moments as she reached a silent hand out to the young woman, sending her a smile when she took it.

It snuffed itself out when she shoved her up against the car.

Their mouths were locked in a mockery of a kiss. Hanne’s teeth could not pierce but they still dug into the meal in front of her. Hanne’s hands gripping tightly onto the young woman's face, her blunt nails digging into her sweaty skin. The groan that left her was wild and unchecked, and Hanne surged ever closer, pressing herself flush against the woman to lock her body in as she began to struggle. Her strength was returning to her, she could feel it as her grip threatened to shatter the human’s bones.

Her crying and screaming came out muffled, hollow. Hanne sucked greedily, grip tightening. A creak of bone rubbing on bone should have slowed her down. It didn’t. The girl managed to wriggle an arm free, swing at Hanne’s face. Her fist connected with Hanne’s left eye socket but Hanne still didn’t move.

She only pushed the woman against the car harder, the black tar of her Reaper form crawling up her forearms. She marveled at the life force flowing into her, tilting her head back to sigh with appreciation. A glance in the side-view mirror showed her skin regaining its former flush, her hair once more turning soft and hydrated. The bags under her eyes were nearly gone and the bruise that was forming around her eye socket faded to nothing. 

Klaus watched with rapt attention, completely turned in the driver’s seat. Stormy blue met pure white. Hanne’s normally hazel irises had disappeared, leaving only a ghastly nothingness behind. His gaze went undeniably soft and Hanne turned back to her meal. The young woman was barely breathing, the pulse jumping in her throat having faded to a whisper before stopping entirely. Hanne finished her off and dropped her by the car door, her tongue chasing the ghost of her taste.

“Those eyes are something I haven’t seen in nearly a thousand years,” Klaus said roughly. “Maybe you were always meant to be this, whatever it is you are.”

“A Reaper.” Hanne offered, feeling nicer after eating. She’d be the first to admit she could be a heinous witch when hungry. She climbed back into the car, ignoring Stefan’s disappointed frown. 

He had no room to judge her. 

As if not to disturb the good mood, Klaus didn’t press her though he was clearly dying to. Instead, he waited till she closed her door and settled in before taking off, glancing at her every time he thought she wasn’t looking.

The weight of Stefan’s judgement hung in the air and Hanne waved a hand through it, uncaring.

* * *

Night time had finally come around, though it did little to soothe the summer heat. Crickets chirped, playing their night symphony in hopes of finding a partner. The home was decently large and left out in the open, no chain link fences to keep the animals at bay. Hanne shook her head as they pulled up just out of sight, tsking at their lack of foresight. 

Then again, only her family would be paranoid enough to use iron wrought gates laced with warding spells. This poor family had no idea what was coming. A lady dressed to evade the summer heat stepped out, her long legs on display in her short shorts.

She called out for her dog, bending down to pick up his chew toy. “Rudy!”

Klaus sent Hanne a mischievous smirk, making a show of climbing out of his car. Everything about his expression told her he was about to put on a small show, an anticipatory hitch to his brows. Stefan had been the one to secure the dog, compelling it to head to the nearest house and stay there until somebody found him. He shuffled into the backseat now, grass green eyes watching Klaus try and charm the lady in front of them.

“What’s he doing? Pretending to ask for directions?” Hanne asked absently. 

“He says his phone died and he wishes to borrow hers. His American accent is actually really unsettling,” Stefan cocked his head. “He just told her he wasn’t a serial killer.”

“Because that’s not suspicious.” Hanne muttered under her breath.

They both watched as Klaus’ face turned into a frown, eyes going cold.

“He’s stopped with the accent. I think he’s about to compel her to let him in.” Stefan leaned back against the seat, his daylight ring rubbing at the back of his neck, a weak twinkle of color in the shadowed car.

Klaus gripped onto the young woman's face, hauling her back into the house. Stefan lets out a deep sigh. “That’s my cue. You should stay here, Ray isn’t even inside.”

Flashing out of the car and onto the porch, Stefan braced himself against the doorway in wait. Another girl, this one with a deeper skin tone and curling black hair ripped open the front door. She could only stare at him in mute horror. Hanne could only hope that they weren’t going to waste their chances at a good meal.

Stefan was invited in and only the sound of the crickets accompanied her.

“One...two...three.” Hanne counted under her breath, rolling her eyes heavenwards as blood curdling screams came from the house. 

Klaus saunters out from the home, a devious grin stretched on his handsome face. He took his seat in the driver's spot and let the door close with a damning thump. “Both my Ripper and my Reaper have gotten their fill tonight, it seems.”

“We aren’t your anything at the moment, Klaus. Just two kidnapped passengers on your hellish ride to wherever.” Hanne sighed.

“We are making more of me,” Klaus smirked. “A Hybrid army, if you will.”

“More of you? Are you trying to cause me physical pain?” Hanne groaned.

“What happened to being afraid of me?” Klaus’ eyes narrowed. “What are you planning?”

“At the moment? Nothing. And I think if you were going to kill me, you would have already. Besides, you seem to care a great deal about who I once was.”

“Who you still are. You just don’t remember yet.” Klaus disagreed.

“Yeah, yeah. Huh.” Hanne turned in her seat, eyeing the string on necklaces he wore. 

“You like them?” Klaus asked with an arrogant smile.

“Sure, if a pretentious hipster artist is what you’re going for, you’ve got it down.” Hanne shrugged. She swallowed the words that were trying to crawl out of her mouth, rubbing at her throat.

“What is it?” Klaus demanded. “What are you thinking of?”

“Didn’t you used to have another? A...bird of sorts?” Hanne blurted.

For a moment, Klaus only stared at her. The grin that stretched across his face took years off, a light in his eyes masking the madness that lay within. It scratched at her brain, the image of a carved wooden bird hanging from a thin strap of leather. After a moment, his smile dimmed.

“I had a starling necklace, once,” Klaus said, voice low. “You were there when I had to replace the leather strap. My mother had made it for me.”

The scratching only grew, filling her head with incessant noise. She clutched at her ears and let out a shrill shriek. Flashes of the necklace flew through her mind, one after another, taking flight before she could focus on any of them. A leather cord rested in her clenched hands, the bird dangling towards the floor as she stared into a blazing fire that stretched towards the sky. A hand gripped hers to steady it’s shaking, a sense of hatred she’d never felt before gliding deep in her marrow.

Together, they threw the necklace into the fire and watched it burn.

When she came to, Klaus was leaning over her protectively, snapping something at Stefan that she couldn’t make out. Stefan’s concerned face peered at her from the opened passenger door, the scent of fresh blood clinging to him as it dripped freely down his mouth. She slumped against her seat, panting. 

“Hanne, what is it, love? What just happened?” Klaus asked, brows furrowing.

“We threw that damn necklace into the fire.” She said shakily. She blinked up at Klaus. “Burned it to ash. I hated it so much. Why did I hate that necklace?” 

“Because of the person who gave it to me.” Klaus said quietly. He didn’t look at her this time, and Hanne got the sense that he was ashamed. 

In a blink, his somber mood switched out for a more playful one. Klaus pulled off one of the necklaces he wore, a beautiful black and silver rosary, and draped it over her neck. The pads of his fingertips pressed gently to the side of her jaw as he admired the sight, Stefan grimaced away from them both, sinking into the plush leather once more.

“Now we match.” Klaus smirked.

“Hardly. I’m still in these damn pajamas.” Hanne scowled. “You could have at least let me go home and pack.”

“And chance the anger of your family?” He asked, brows raising. “Not a chance. Here.”

Klaus flashed out of the car, popping open the back. Coming back with handfuls of bags from expensive labels, hanging his arms out to the sides with a proud grin. 

“Elijah and I both had decided to pull some clothing for you. You’ll find the basics have been covered, but not to worry, we will surely fill up your closet soon. Come take your pick, I’m sure there is something in one of these bags to your tastes.”

Her eyes roved over the bags, taking in the luxurious names. With all the caution of someone approaching a wild animal, Hanne tipped toed over and chanced a peek into the smallest of the bags. No snakes or spells jumped out, no knives gleamed in the minimal moonlight. The scent of a soft amber and ivy along with the sheen of glass revealed an exquisite bottle of perfume. Hanne ignored his triumphant look when she plucked it from the bag and spritzed it on.

She has a feeling she will be doing a lot of ignoring Klaus these days.

Another bag revealed a fresh pair of trousers, the price tag making her grin. If she couldn’t hurt them with her fists, at least she’s hurting them in their wallets. 

“All this expanse just for little old me?” She cooed. 

“If you were to buy everything you’ve ever wanted, it wouldn’t come close to making a dent,” Klaus chuckled. “A thousand years can make anyone rich beyond belief. In fact, we should probably open an account under your name soon.”

“I don’t need your money, Klaus. Don’t peak,” Hanne warned, watching as he turned around before she dropped her pants. “Well. Maybe a little of your money. College is expensive, you know.”

It felt nice to be in actual clothes and not the pajamas she’d been stuck in. A quick glance in another bag proved fruitful, an oversized flannel spilling out. She squealed with delight, thankful for the small comfort. When she was ripping off the tags, Klaus turned back around, his eyes taking her in.

“That’s an ugly shirt.” He frowned. “And college will be no issue. You could go anywhere you desire, just name it.”

“Elijah knows my taste in clothing, it seems. I’m not big on fancy clothes, they always are a bitch to get blood out of. I’m already going to Whitmore. Speaking of which, I’ll need to email my professors soon.”

“I can get you a laptop before we leave in the morning. Is there anything else you’d like?”

“Basic toiletries would be nice.” Hanne says in a clipped tone. “But I really should be going home soon, my classes aren’t online.”

“You can go anywhere and you’re choosing Whitmore.” Klaus shook his head. 

He flashed back to the truck and put the bags away, his fingers moving rapidly over the keys of his phone when he came back. He didn’t bother to answer the second part of her statement. Hanne really hated him for getting in the way of her education, it was the worst thing he’s done so far in her opinion. 

“I’d rather be at Whitmore than here,” Hanne muttered, not witnessing the spark lighting in Klaus’ eyes.

* * *

The bar was pretty typical, all glowing neon signs and a wall with a dart board. There were even a few TVs playing whatever game was on, which Hanne watched only with a passing interest. She wasn’t one to drink but tonight she wanted to get blasted. The last time she drank was with Stefan, actually, and she could tell by the small smile on his face he was remembering the night just like she was.

“Last time, you got so shit faced you nearly got arrested for indecent exposure.” Stefan chuckled, nursing his whiskey. “I had to compel the poor guy to let you go.”

“It wasn’t even anything crazy, it was a little bit of tasteful boob. Just because it was at the park…” Hanne bit back her smirk, settling for a scoff. 

“Please, your entire chest was out. I had to put my jacket on you backwards because you refused to put your shirt back on. Then you made me carry you to the corner store for a greasy churro.”

“You loved the churros, don’t act like you didn’t.” She slapped his shoulder, grinning viciously when he rubbed it.

“Yes, well, as must as I love watching you two tell stories about Hanne’s tasteful breasts, we are here for another reason.” Klaus said stiffly. He stood behind the both of them, having gone to the restroom. 

“What, no stories about how Hanne tried to dance naked under the full moon back a million years ago?” Stefan mocked, sharing a grin with a buzzed Hanne.

“That’s more my mom’s speed, she does that like every month.”

The Hybrid ignored them both as they broke out into laughter, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Here comes our target. Stefan, come alive.”

The vampire sombered, saluting Klaus and sliding his drink over to Hanne who gladly accepted it. Klaus intercepted, much to her indignation, drinking it down in one gulp. They watched as Stefan made his way over to a tired looking man, his wane expression deserving of a drink. Hanne only found it to be mildly more interesting than the football game across from her, sneaking glances when the screen bored her. 

“He’ll be fine,” Klaus scowled. “He’s a big boy, he can handle himself.”

Hanne’s eyebrows shot up and she turned slowly to look at him. “I wasn’t worried. I’m bored.”

“Doesn’t seem that way, with all your reminiscing.” 

“Then find a new way to entertain me.” Hanne snapped.

Because he was Klaus, he took that as a personal challenge. He sauntered over to Ray, who’d just been turning to leave, pulling out that sharp gleaming smile of his. The tenseness in his shoulder didn’t bode well for Ray, and Hanne sat up. Finally, something interesting. A huge part of her missed being at home, because somebody would be brawling about now or she and her father would be elbow deep in corpse guts. 

She missed corpse guts.

Ray immediately looks frightened. He goes to leave, just getting past them when she slips from her chair and strides up to him. “What’s wrong?” She asks Klaus flatly.

“They won’t leave me alone,” Ray begins, glancing back at an amused Klaus. “You’ve got to help me out here, I thought he compelled everyone in this bar.”

“Not you.” She dismisses coldly. “I thought I was going to get a show.”

“And you will.” Stefan speaks up. 

Ray’s face loses all its color. He’s staring down at Hanne, a look equally made of fear and anger twisting his expression into an ugly snarl. She can admit how confused Stefan must be feeling right now, because she leans against his shoulder instead of bitching at him. Despite her own mixed feelings for the young vampire, she’d come to the conclusion that if they were going to survive Klaus, it’d be together.

“You’re with them.” He spits. “Another vampire.”

“Actually, she’s not a vampire.” Stefan says, lips drawn in a tight smile. 

“You should really just give them what they want. Stefan, here, is going to want to play a game with you if you don’t. And you really don’t want to play games with the Ripper of Monterey.”

Stefan only glances at her, resigned. It disappears in a blink, and Stefan is back to channeling his Ripper swagger. It’s not the full thing, not the monster Klaus is truly looking for, but it’s enough to sate him at the moment. Like she predicted, Stefan suggests a game, ordering a scotch that comes sailing down the wooden countertop and into his waiting hand. In his other hand is a bag, small and tied together with a ribbon.

“Let’s play a game, Ray. It’s called Truth or wolfsbane.” Stefan says, dropping dried purple petals into the glass.

“I wonder how different wolfsbane poisoning is to werewolf venom…” Hanne mused. She leant forward, watching with amusement as Ray was parked in front of the dart board, his pupils dilating. 

“Werewolf venom causes hallucinations and death comes rather quickly. Wolfsbane is more like setting your veins on fire. Your entire body aches, breathing feels harder...It’s rather fascinating, isn’t it sweetheart?”

“If I’m not going to tolerate Damon Salvatore calling me pet names, I don’t see why you think I will tolerate you calling me them.” Hanne grumbled.

“Damon Salvatore isn’t a dreaded semi-public figure, now is he?” Klaus murmured, pursing his lips.

“He’s dreaded to me.”

“My brother isn’t that bad,” Stefan interrupted his little game with Ray to send Hanne a dirty look. “He’s just…”

“An asshole who gets in his own way?” Hanne snorted, sharing the rare smile with Klaus.

“What’s this Damon done that’s so terrible, hmm?” He was humoring her, Hanne knew. But she’d never pass up the opportunity to talk shit about people she hated.

“He made fun of me within the first few moments of meeting me. Plus, he’s been a total monster to Stefan every time he comes into Stefan’s life. Stef already has enough shit on his plate, he didn’t need his damaged goods brother coming in and ruining every good thing he had. He didn’t even have the decency to fall in love with somebody else’s girl.”

“You really dislike him so much?”

“I didn’t, at first. I thought he was just another asshole. But everytime Stefan brought him up...I hated him more and more. I rarely hate people, but Damon has been on my shit list for a while now.”

“Maybe Stefan is simply forgetting all the good times he and his brother have had?” Hanne glanced at him, brows pinching. He didn’t look at her, his stormy gaze forcefully trained on Stefan.

“Maybe the bad things outweigh the good,” Hanne whispered, suddenly aware of Stefan’s tense shoulders. “I’m mad at Stefan right now, but he’s my first and only friend outside of my family. He was the only one who took a chance on the weird kid who talked to the air instead of the people around them.”

“The air? You still converse with spirits?” Klaus asked softly. “Maybe I should be more lenient with dear Stefan, then.”

Hanne nodded, terrible pangs of old loneliness ricocheting inside of her even now. It was almost nice, the time she was spending with Klaus right now. They were standing in a comfortable silence, sipping away at the drinks Klaus had compelled for them, watching Stefan work his magic. Ray was slack in his chains, a handful of darts embedded in his face and on the board behind him. Hanne tracked the blood flow of the wounds, noticing the oddly thick viscosity of them.

“What would you say the werewolf healing rate is?” Hanne called out, snapping her fingers when Ray didn’t immediately look at her. “Hey, I’m talking to you!”

“You should answer the lady.” Klaus said darkly.

“Careful, they might ask me to get more creative with my game.” Stefan warned. 

“Why are you doing this to me?” Ray asked with a groan.

“I do what he tells me to do.” Stefan answered, shrugging at Ray, all fake apologies in his eyes.

A woman enters the little bar, gunning straight for Klaus once she spots him. Hanne watches her with thinly veiled suspicion. No feelings of warning shot through the back of her skull; nothing to tell her what this woman was. She must have been human, then. And compelled by the looks of it, from the dazed look in her glassy eyes. She can’t hear a word she says over the sound of Ray’s heavy pained breathing though.

Her hand clamps down on his mouth, loudly shushing him. Stefan stops his work, going stock still, face carefully blank. When the woman leaves, he rushes to Klaus.

“Klaus, let me take care of it.” 

“Take care of what?” Hanne prys her hand from Ray’s mouth, wiping it off on his shirt. “What’s going on now?”

“Dear Damon has come looking for Stefan.” Klaus says with all the amusement of a soaking wet cat. He looks like all the fun has been sucked out of him, his stormy eyes flashing the briefest of gold. “Looks like he’ll be dying after all.”

“Want me to come along?” Hanne grins hatefully, ignoring Stefan’s pleading glance.

“Klaus, please, let me take care of it. I’ll make sure he stops looking for me. I swear.” His hand clamps around Klaus’ arm, though they all know that if Klaus wanted to, he could rip out of his grasp easily.

“Are you even having fun here, Stefan? Are you enjoying yourself?”

“I’m here to do what you want of me. If you want me to get rid of my brother, I will. I’ll come back. I’ll even leave Hanne with you.”

Hanne couldn’t help herself. Her hand reached out, the sound of a solid slap echoing throughout the bar. She ignores her stinging hand and settles for waving down the bartender for another shot.

“Go fuck yourself, Stefan.”

She doesn’t bother to watch him leave. Klaus takes the seat next to her, the two settling into a comfortable silence. Of course, Klaus has to ruin it by speaking.

“I could tear an arm off, if you’d like. Or one of his legs.”

“I’m this close to tearing off his limbs myself,” Hanne muttered. “Maybe burying them across the globe so he can’t heal or die. If he doesn’t think hell has a seat warming up for him, he’s stupider than he looks.”

“We could always just kill him,” Klaus offers.

“You’ll lose your favorite pet, and I’ll lose my only friend.”

“He’s my friend as well. At least, he was.”

She shrugs, knocking back her shot. “We could both do better at this point I think.”

“I could be your friend. If only you’d let me.” Klaus said carefully, sipping at his bourbon. 

“That’s tough, I’m all out of open spots for friends right now.” Hanne said dryly. “I think I’ll stick to talking to ghosts.”

* * *

Dorotheé stares at the stack of papers in front of her, daunted.

There’d been a fire at Whitmore, one that nearly had burnt everything down. But Maggie’s journal contained the few secrets that didn’t go down in ash. Her mother had sent photocopies, magically spelled to look like recipes. It took a kiss to the right corner and a truth chant to unfold it’s real contents. The one thing about magic that she loved, was that it could be whatever she wanted it to be.

There was a sticky note with a scratchy eye drawn out on top of the stack. It was her moth’s way of telling her to use magic to look deeper. Scrying, smoke infused visions- it all went under the great eye as one in the same. Every witch was different, after all. A common misconception about witches was that every spellbook was the same. 

They aren’t. Sure, you can borrow a page or two from an ancestors book. But if you didn’t have the same signature, the same elemental draw? It’d be useless to you. That’s why every witch had their own book. It was full of their own codes and spells, carefully curated to each owner. It was almost like a game of telephone when passing on a spell. It had to be tweaked before it could be used, or it’d blow up in your face.

Right now, Dorotheé had her grimoire open to a mirror spell. One she’d taken from her maman and tweaked to tailor her whimsical air nature. Her hand mirror is heavy in her grasp, it’s pure gold frame intricate in it’s detailing. The mirror itself is shined to absolute perfection- she’d never settle for anything less.

The chant comes easily to her, the words echoing in the empty hotel room. Wind howls outside furiously, getting louder in time with her heartbeat. All at once, the trees scrapping at her window stills and the mirror flashes a vibrant purple. 

There’s a figure sitting in a darkened cell, their form barely distinguishable. She doesn’t need to have superior senses to tell that this person is hurting. It’s clear in the stiff way they move, in the raspy breaths they take. She asks the darkness to make way for her, to lift off of this poor creature withering in the black. For a moment, nothing happens.

But slowly the darkness lifts. Little by little, light spills into the tiny cell, brightening it just enough for her to see. 

He’s younger than she thought he’d be. Her great Maggie’s Enzo was a handsome man, with sharp cheekbones and honeyed skin. Dry patches of blood litter his body, the cuts having healed long ago but the trauma still weighing him down. It’s evident that his wounds aren’t all superficial. His breathing hitches like he’s missing a piece of his lungs, and Dorotheé would bet money that he was.

Poor, pitiful creature. 

There was no way to retrieve him at the moment. Not that her mother would allow her even if she could. Despite asking Dorotheé to check in on Whitmore and it’s secret pet project, she had explicit orders to not intervene more than necessary. Enzo was a creature of the night, an abomination to nature. A vampire.

And witches don’t help vampires, regardless of the situation. 

She whispers to the glass, free hand grabbing a hold of a readily made note. In a flurry of wind, the note disappears. Her golden gaze lingers on the mirror’s surface, debating if the spell worked or not, when a piece of paper floated gently down onto Enzo’s foot. It fell as if carried by a breeze, the edges wind-torn and weathered even by it’s short trip.

The vampire lifts his heavy head and stares in bewilderment. As if it would bite him, Enzo carefully grabs a hold of the paper with two shaking fingers. His dark eyes dance across the page, widening. It slips from his grasp and floats back onto the floor before disappearing once more, as if it were never there. 

A spark of hope glimmered from somewhere deep within him, all because of three little words. 

_ ‘See you soon.’  _

Dorotheé smiled to herself, already thinking of a long soak in her hotel’s claw foot tub. 

* * *

Stefan had come back just in time to see Klaus feed Ray his blood and helplessly watch him die. Ray’s pack died all around him, leaving a cornucopia of corpses. Hanne took this time to snatch a snack, hand flitting about the widely spread bodies, grabbing what she could now that they’d already died.

Something had gone wrong, had failed Ray at the last moment, for when he came back to life it was torn from him like a rug under his feet. Klaus had been enraged, face twisting into an ugly snarl that betrayed the monster beneath his skin. As if he could talk down the beast from his rage, Stefan had stepped up, metaphorical sword in hand.

Death was inevitable. She said as much from where she was crouched above Ray’s cooling body, her words halting the two arguing men. Her brows were pinched in thought, her finger dragging through Ray’s blood. 

“Something’s missing, don’t you think?” She asked absently. 

“Missing how?” Klaus snapped. “I’ve done everything, what else is there to do?”

The thought wiggled in her brain, half formed and met with a vicious satisfaction. She could spell it out for him, ask him what ingredients were used in the original spell- but she knew the answer to that, the vaguest memory of a girl with Elena’s face coming to mind. Her hair was wild, unbound, and her eyes hazy. But Hanne wasn’t going to hand over her half baked thoughts. 

Not out of any sense of duty to Stefan, not out of any love for a girl she didn’t know. 

Hanne simply didn’t want to.

“Not sure.” She shrugged, doing her best at acting casual. Stefan catches her eye from across the room, and in an instant, he knows. 

He’s always been observant. Always been stupidly in tune with people’s emotions and thoughts. It takes only a moment, a single look, and he knows that she knows exactly what Klaus is missing. His lips purse with her new secret and she raises her brows at him. He at least isn’t a mind reader, and neither is Klaus. The true source of Klaus’ failures will die with her if she had any say in it. She laughed, the sound distorted and dry. She was becoming more and more like her mother, she thought wryly. 

“Think about it. Maybe it’ll come to you,” Hanne teased, not that Klaus registered it as her teasing him with an answer she already held. He only rolled his stormy eyes, stomping out of the woods with a dramatic flourish.

“Dramatica,” Hanne muttered under her breath.

* * *

Sleep comes in patches that never last longer than an hour or so. She snatches at what she can, but when four o’clock in the morning rolls around and she’s staring at the hotel’s ceiling, she decides enough is enough and props herself up against the pillows. The TV flickers on, sending the bright artificial light right into her eyes and blinding her. It’s when she’s on her fourth episode of Vanderpump Rules when Klaus enters.

He’d been ‘nice’ enough to get Stefan and her their own rooms. It was attached to his room, of course, in one giant suite. But It was better than having to share a room with him and his giant ego. She just looks at him through tired eyes, wondering what he could want now.

As he pads over, she registers that she's all alone in her room with him and sits up more. Klaus’ face goes impossibly soft. He hovers at the edge of her bed, sitting down gently as if not to scare her away.

“It’s late. Why are you still awake?” 

“I wish I knew.”

He nods, letting a blanket of silence settle over them. Klaus scoots closer, now level with her tucked in knees. She doesn’t think, flipping the covers back and making room for him, only catching onto herself when he shoots her a look that goes straight to her chest. Something akin to awe mingles with fondness, twisting the shocked purse of his lips into the barest of smiles. He crawls into the vacated spot, tucking himself into the bed like he’s done it a thousand times before.

They are soaking in each other’s features like it’s the first time they’ve met. Hanne’s heart is pounding like a beast from within her ribcage, rattling her bones and demanding she volt away from the wolf in her bed. But the curiosity, the need to see what he does next, keeps her still.

“When we were teenangers, we would sneak into each other’s home and lay just like this.” Klaus says in a whisper, the back of his hand reaching out to trail across her cheek. “You used to look at me this exact way. All wide eyed with a ravenous curiosity.”

For once, his sense of knowing her doesn’t scare her off. She continues to look at him, shying away from his touch when he reaches to stroke her face once more. He lets his hand drop, seemingly content with the single touch. Like this, she can almost count his eyelashes.

“You were my greatest friend. The first outside of my family, in fact. That alone is why I’m keeping Stefan alive no matter how much he vexes us. He was a good friend, has potential to be good once more- but if it were not his kindness to you, in becoming your friend when I could not, he would be ashes.”

“What do you want from me?” It’s hard to let the words pass her lips, but Hanne bites the bullet and continues. “What possibly can you think is going to happen?”

“I am a covetous man,” Klaus says, a quirk to his plush lips. “But I will not ask of you what you will not give. Right now, all I want from you is your companionship. I’ve been without it for far too long.”

“You know I have to get back to my family,” Hanne starts, sitting up farther. “I can’t stay with you forever.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Klaus says softly. Klaus is still, looking up at her with watchful eyes. His hand comes up to play with the rosary he gave her, and Hanne can’t shake the sense of foreboding the act gives her. He takes in a deep breath, and Hanne’s world comes crashing down.

_ “I call upon thee child of Hel, _

_ To proclaim my right as a child of the night. _

_ I pay thy tithe in blood and bone, _

_ And invoke thy spell long set in stone.” _

Hanne jumps up, tumbling down in the tangle of blankets in her haste. Already she can feel the link forming and humming between them, The Call of protection solidifying like an albatross around her throat. 

“No,” She cried out, trying desperately to free herself.

_ “With this necklace, _

_ I thee wed, _

_ I invoke The Call to bind thee to my heart, _

_ And only in my death shall we part.” _

She screamed with rage as the last bit of the spell snapped into place. The weight of it pushed her to the floor, her eyes stinging with tears. 

The mockery of a wedding vow was the best kept secret of Reapers. It was one ferociously guarded, and yet it now spilled from Klaus’ lips. He had no need for it, has survived a thousand years without needing her kind’s protection. It was meant to be a myth, a bedtime story to scare little Reaper children into behaving. But past a certain age it stopped being a story and more of a threat.

In death, one’s control was handed over to a Reaper. It wasn’t much unless the one who died was human; it only gained a Reaper minimum leverage with the supernatural loopholes that were vampires. In theory, she should be able to manipulate a vampire into doing her bidding, since they have died. But whatever magic that kept them reanimated kept control firmly out of a Reaper’s grasp. It’d only been fair that Reapers couldn’t fall to compulsion, since vampires couldn’t be forced to obey.

But vampires were also the only creatures that could use The Call. Klaus wouldn’t order her about, couldn’t turn her into his creation. But he could make her live out the rest of her long life at his side, forever forced to protect him. To keep him from traveling into Hel’s gracious embrace. 

Whoever added that rule could choke.

Black bloomed from her pores and crawled up her forearms, the tarry substance making a mess of her sheets. Klaus sits up, watching her with wary eyes. 

“ _ You beast! _ ” 

“‘There is much to be learned from beasts’.” He quoted, looking terribly saddened.

“How did you even know? How-”

“I had one of my witch contacts look into your kind,” Klaus says carefully. “Their entire coven unearthed the most useful spells. Of course, I killed them all and destroyed any evidence of it afterward.”

“How dare you....You pretentious megalomaniac!” She lunges for him, all sense of self preservation flying out the window.

Like an owner's hand grabbing ahold of a naughty puppy’s scruff, her rosary slings backwards, keeping her from reaching him. No harm can come to him under her watch, let alone by her own hands. She yowls and pits the biggest bitch fit she can, kicking out her legs and snarling at him in mid-air. Only when she ceases her tantrum is she unceremoniously dropped to the floor. Klaus pulls himself to his feet, coming to stand above her, his gaze burning along her flesh.

“I fucking hate you,” She spits, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I will not be parted from you again,” He whispers. “You may hate me for all of eternity, but I will not be cut from your side once more.”

“You’re not even going to let me tell my family? My mom?” She croaked, watching him walk to the door. Her words give him pause, and he fishes out his phone.

It lands on her bed with a thump and Hanne springs for it. Her mother’s phone number is the only one she remembers by heart, and she starts to cry in earnest when she picks up on the second ring.

“This better be good,” Eirka snarls into the phone.

A laugh slips out of her. “Mamma, it’s me.”

“Hanne?” Eirka gasps. “Dearest, where are you? Where have you been? Your moth came to us but it cannot find you.”

Hanne can hear her father’s fervent voice, asking if she’s okay. Her mother hushes him and puts Hanne on speakerphone.

“I’m alright, mostly.” She glares at Klaus who smiles at her impishly. “Mamma, listen- I’ve gotten The Call.”

Her parent’s anguish comes in the form of mangled growls and enraged roars. She feels her eyes sting all over again and the shuddering gasp that leaves her makes her feel like a child once more, left out of the other children’s games and all by herself. They are speaking in unison, their words too rough for her to translate in her current state. With a deep inhale, Hanne calls back her moth.

“I have to stay with him. I’m calling it back,” She said softly. “He hasn’t hurt me.”

“Who is he, please tell us at least that much,” Anders, her father, begs.

She glances at Klaus and dares him to challenge her on this. He only shrugs, the faintest bit of guilt on his face. The briefest moment of surprise sparks when he speeds over, taking the phone from her and into his hand.

“My name is Niklaus Mikaelson. Your child and I go way back, you see, she’s a dear friend of mine. I promise no harm shall come to her under my care.” He’s using that smooth voice of his, as if he were introducing himself at a family dinner and not keeping their daughter basically hostage.

Her parents' voices are nothing but a buzzing noise. Klaus grimaces and pulls the phone away from his ear, looking properly chastened. The Great Big Bad Wolf looked like a scolded child.

“No, this was not my intention. Yes, she will be well taken care of, anything she could want or need will be hers with only a word. Yes, we are planning on extending our trip for a while longer, and then we will be returning home. If it makes you feel any better, she can go to any Ivy League school she wants to when she gets back.”

Hanne grabs a hold of her blankets and throws herself onto the bed, uncaring that it makes her look childish. The world is becomes dark and muffled under her blanket burrito, and she comforts herself by imagining setting Klaus’ stupid Bottechelli curls on fire.

“Yes, I’ll be needing her things. Keep them for now, the house is still in the drafting stage I’m afraid. I know, terribly unprepared of me.”

It clicks then, that when he’d been talking of her closet as he held out her shopping bags, that he’d been talking of the one he was going to have built for her. Not the one at her dorm. Not even the one back home at her parent’s house.

No, Klaus knew he was going to keep her for an indefinite period of time. He’d only needed the means to force her to get with the program.

“Yes, well, you both have a good night as well.” She can tell he’s smiling right now, just by the tone of his voice. She wants to claw his fucking eyes out. He hangs up and shifts in place, as if waiting for something.

She sticks a hand out from under the blanket and gives him the bird, ignoring his sigh. It isn’t until he leaves the room that she lets herself finally lose it, snarling and crying into her expensive hotel sheets, beating the tar out of the goose-feather pillows. The feathers fly about like snow, and she can hear somebody come to her door and knock. She doesn’t answer in words, only throws one of the many decorative pillows at it, sneering in satisfaction as it causes the wood to splinter and crack.

The footsteps fade away after an hour, leaving her alone with her tumultuous thoughts.


	4. Complications

_Iona swayed side to side even as she tried to force herself flat against the deck. Salty air clung to her hair and skin, making it sting as it grazed her wind chapped lips. Her dark hair swirled wildly with the breeze, and she had barely enough time to spring to her feet before she spilt her meager breakfast into the roiling water._

_The endless blue ocean taunted her, swallowing her breakfast and feeding it's creatures that swam within. It was a graveyard of shipwrecks and drowned women, tossed overboard in times of crisis to quell an age old fear. She could hear them scream from the depths, the sound echoing in her ears. Phantom fingers reached from the surface, begging for a helping hand out of a watery hell._

_Her mother's hands lifted her hair from her face, pulling her strange glazed eyes from the water. Murky white eyes bled back into dark hazel. The others stifled their cruel laughter at her weak stomach and odd mind, their readiness to dismiss her pulling at her heart strings. Her mother pushed her towards the back of the ship, to keep her out of sight of their sneers. She can feel her mother's shame shroud her like a heavy black cloak._

_Iona swore she'd never get back on a ship, for as long as she'd lived. Maybe then she could avoid the wailing waters and the shame it brought her family._

_She blinks and the world around her has morphed into a lush green forest. She's a few years older, a couple of years wiser. Iona doesn't fear the scorn of others anymore, not when she has her ghostly friends._

_Apparitions walk alongside her, their presence soothing. She chatters with them all throughout the day, their kindness making it easy to ignore the scornful looks passed between the others. Only her father looks at her fondly, his gaze growing tinged with pity the more she seemed to lose herself. Her mother looks the other way, mortification blooming like roses in her cheeks._

_They'd been walking for so long and her legs ached so deeply that she'd almost wished she were back on the rolling boat. Her father's strong arms hoisted her onto his horse, the tip of his bow and arrow digging into her trembling thigh with every gallop. Her siblings and mother trailed not too far behind them, their own horses scoring the earth with their heavy hooves. Smoke plumed into the grey winter sky, the outskirts of the village they were traveling to coming into perfect view._

_The village is decently sized, the handful of settlers that'd come before them joining with other wondering groups of people. She tries to remain as sweet as the berries they'd picked along the way, keeping a wide smile on her youthful face. But even their taste becomes bitter with every harsh whisper._

_She closes her eyes and leans into her father's back, wondering if this would always be her lot in life._

_Her only relief in the coming years would be a family of fellow Viking descendants. Made up of mostly brothers and a cheerful sister, Iona begins to feel like she finally has a place in this world. A thought lingers like a glinting knife in the back of her mind, the feeling that her moments of reprieve come at a terrible price spicing every interaction._

_The Mikaelsons take her as she is, but she wonders if they know she's a doomed being regardless of their affections._

_A boy with eyes like the sea she so feared looks at her from across a burning fire and she drowns, drowns, drowns._

Hanne's eyes flutter open and she jolts up in her bed. The beginnings of a nasty migraine trickle in, threatening to turn her brain into a lumpy grey puree. She needs caffeine and stat. Climbing to her feet is an arduous task and she wished she could have gotten a more useful ability than super strength or intangibility. Like teleportation. But no, she was stuck living the life of a grittier Danny Phantom.

So she watches kids shows. Not all of her life could be horror films and dead bodies.

Just most of it. She does rather enjoy them after all.

The shiny silver surface of a brand new laptop was the first thing to greet Hanne when she'd cracked open her door. With Klaus and Stefan out of sight, she opens the door the rest of the way, her eyes catching on a bright yellow sticky note, the looping cursive as familiar to her as her own handwriting. She catches herself tracing it with a finger before snatching it back as if burned.

' _So you don't fall behind.' - xo Stefan_

Opening it up, she noticed it was all set up for her. It looked nearly identical to the old PC she'd left behind in her dorm, aside from the brand new interface and the meticulous way she organized her documents. It was clear Stefan had thought of everything- done to the exact same color of hard drive she would have picked out if she'd gotten it herself. The remembrance of knowing he knows _her_ so intimately brings a wobbly smile to her face.

Hanne could feel the slightest crack form in her growing mound of hatred for him. Despite his mistakes and casual cruelty, Stefan was still the one who knew her best.

It didn't hurt that he hadn't bound her to him in an unbreakable contract that only resolved itself upon death. Her mood sours, the weight of her rosary dragging her down. Klaus' door cracks open and any thoughts of coffee flee her mind. Hanne gathers up her new laptop and sprints back into her room, slamming the door shut behind her.

* * *

It's easier than she expected to ignore Klaus this time around. Instead of sitting at his side like a deranged pet, she sits in silent solitude with Stefan, both of them looking out the same window as Klaus drives on. A trailer is hitched to the back to cart around the caskets like a bad imitation of Hanne's hearse.

"Not going to speak to me then?" He says, lips curling.

Hanne kept quiet. She didn't even spare him a look. Chicago was the last place Hanne wanted to go. Pulling at the rosary hanging like an albatross around her neck, she sunk further into the plush leather seats and closed her eyes.

"Maybe you'll speak to me if I give you your gift," Klaus smirked, pulling a box from the front seat and shoving it towards her, his eyes still on the road ahead. "Perhaps it'll change your attitude."

It was easy to guess what the box contained. A sleek laptop pulled free, it's hardware fancier and obviously more expensive than the gift Stefan had given her. It looked like the models that haven't even come out yet. Hanne hated every inch of it.

The window rolled down and the box made a satisfying thump as she tossed it out.

"That was brand new!" Klaus said incredulously. "What is wrong with you today?"

"You really have to ask?" Hanne drawled, her voice dry.

Their eyes met in the rearview mirror. Hanne looked away first, even the sight of him through a mirror invoked rage. Her fingers dug into her jeans, the force of it ripping tiny holes in the fabric. It took Stefan settling an arm on her shoulder to put a cap on her overflowing agitation. She leaned into it now, memories of a time when she could trust that arm to never let her fall spinning in her head. Hanne bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, the scent of it drawing in Stefan and Klaus' gaze like hounds.

She licks it away. "Where are we going anyway?"

"Chicago." Klaus mutters, glancing at Stefan.

The name sparks recognition in both of them, Klaus watching still as the two share a look. "Chicago? What for?"

"We have a witch to see. Have had this particular one in my pocket since the roaring twenties."

"The twenties, huh?" Hanne frowns. "Didn't you spend a Ripper stint there?"

"I'm afraid so." Stefan matches her with a frown of his, sighing through his nose. "It's a bit blurry, but those days...I'd been rather active."

"Why exactly is this Gloria needed?"

"Hopefully she can solve my little problem. There must be some loose end, as impossible as it is."

It amused Hanne to see Klaus so distraught. He'd seemed so unshakable the first few moments they'd met, his bones breaking and remending into the beast that hid beneath his skin. But now he was frazzled, fraying at the ends like a cheaply made shirt. She wanted to pluck at his threads and watch him unravel if only to quell the desire to knock someone down into her pity party.

Instead of pulling up to a home, they pull right up to the curb of a bar. It seemed fairly empty, which at least told Hanne that it was a bit nicer than some dive day drinkers would slink off to. Gloria herself is younger than she'd expected her to be more on par with a middle-aged mother who'd met her time with grace instead of some old crone. The older woman brightens at the sight of Stefan, greeting him like he was an old friend.

"You! I haven't seen you in a long time. Welcome back."

"Gloria?" Stefan asked cautiously, stepping forward.

"Gloria. You look ravishing as always." Kalus said.

Her expression soured at the sight of Klaus' smirking mug and Hanne decided she liked her immediately. But that like is washed away the moment Gloria looks at her. She goes stiff, her eyes wide with shock.

"You're a very old soul," She says, brows pinching. "Looking at you, it's like looking at the Aurora Borealis. So many colors...so many lives lived and lost. You poor creature."

Klaus glances between the two, a hint of something aching in his eyes growing minutely before it's overshadowed with the gleam of ambition. He dismisses his companions, allowing Hanne to bow out of the incoming awkward situation and for Stefan to get behind the bar. She knows her friend well enough to know when he's eavesdropping but she keeps it to herself. Having no interest in Klaus' schemes, she sits at the bar and orders a drink, much to Stefan's exasperation.

"You shouldn't drink so much, you're going to end up an alcoholic." Stefan sighs, sliding down a brightly colored cocktail.

"There are worse things to be in this world. Like a Ripper," She points out.

"Or a bitchy Reaper."

"Touché."

"So what are they over there whispering about? Surely he's loud enough to hear." It's an easy enough out and he looks at her gratefully before spilling.

"They need something of the Original witch. To contact her and find out what went wrong with her spell."

They share a knowing look. If she were even the slightest bit fond of Klaus at the moment, she might have thrown him a bone. But it wasn't her mess to take part in. Stefan had more at stake than she did, likely hiding away Elena's continued involvement. The sight of her being lowered to the floor, her young face pale as she stared blankly into the dark night, repeated in Hanne's mind like a scratched record.

She kept replaying what little she remembered of that moment, something tugging at her thoughts with tiny claws. What was off about that picture?

It clicked, her hand coming to her mouth to stifle her gasp.

Elena's soul never left her body.

No silver mist tried to flee from her flesh, no pitch in Hanne's hunger had risen. She would have remembered it, having been hoping for some sort of a miracle like she'd been that night.

But then how? Was Elena a vampire now?

It made her look at Stefan in a different light. It painted the picture of his Ripper self all the more clearly, his cunning easier to see. Stefan liked to play the heroic martyr, she loved his compassionate self, but she knew deep down he was just as fucked up as she was. He had to be, if he'd been willing to sell her out for a human.

It was her turn to hide this secret. Stefan had hidden her assumed knowledge of what would complete the Hybrid transition needed for Klaus building his own little clubhouse, and now Hanne would hide Stefan's grieving boyfriend facade.

"Bring me Rebekah." Hanne overheard Gloria say.

The name was a trigger, a memory racing like a bullet into her skull. She swayed on her barstool, Stefan flashing to her side and steadying her. Hanne shook her head at Klaus as he made a move to get up.

_A girl with flowing wheat-colored hair and a smile bright as the sun. Arms that held her close as they sat by the fire, sharing laughter and sharing stories. Rebekah clapping her hands with excitement as Hanne-no, Iona- shot her arrow true into the bark of a tree. Both girls moaning over their pricked fingertips but admiring the cloaks they'd made for Jol's cold mornings._

_She remembered loving this girl fiercely. Like they'd been plucked from the stars together and reunited on earth. Best friends, nearly sisters, only kept apart by a different set of parents. Every plan they'd made shattered like glass the moment Iona had died, all ideas of a future together dashed against the rocks._

It was enough to choke her up. She comes back to the bartop slowly, eyes blinking rapidly to clear away the white dots that danced across her vision.

"She's your sister, isn't she? And my friend."

"You remember?"

"I remember her," Hanne whispered. "Most of her." She corrected, wiping away the tears that'd fallen onto the lamented wood in front of her.

The room is silent and she pulls free from Stefan's grip, nodding at Klaus to sit back down.

"Show's over," Stefan said. He hovered for a moment before going back behind the bar, wiping down a set of glasses.

Gloria eyed Hanne with renewed interest, her mouth opening to ask another question. Beating her with one of his own, Klaus leaned forward. "Rebekah is a bit preoccupied."

"She has what I need. You'll bring her to me."

"What the hell is this?" Stefan's voice drips with shock, turning around with a photo in his hands. "How are we in the same picture?"

"We were friends, once upon a time." Klaus admits with a smile. "Chicago was our time."

Klaus' insistence to bring Stefan along, his willingness to let him live despite his tendency to annoy Klaus- it all made sense now. It was startling, really, to have one of his many layers peeled back. The glimpse of vulnerability in his eyes was blood in the water, and Hanne suddenly felt like a shark as she circled near him.

"Oh, so you knew us _both_. How convenient. Do you remember him, Stef?"

"Not at all." Stefan croaked, eyes shimmering. Always so emotional, Hanne thought. Always so _sentimental_.

Of course, he'd be upset by the revelation. Stefan loved hard, but he tended to hurt harder. Gloria snatched her hand from where her finger was wearing a hole in the wood, the touch unintentionally setting Hanne's nerves aflame. She groaned into the contact, eyes going white. Bits and pieces of Gloria's strength fled into Hanne's skin, the taste of a witch's soul so much more intoxicating than a normal human.

She could feel her cheeks flush with a misplaced desire, her chest heaving. Like plucking a thread, Hanne turned her hand to grip onto Gloria and pulled inward, shuddering as she fed on her. Struggle as she might, Gloria can't dislodge herself from Hanne's steel grasp. It was like all thought had left her the moment she'd touched Hanne's skin, and all she could focus on was coming away intact. Her mental arsenal of spells faded away, the hand Hanne clutched slowly growing veinier, Gloria's true age catching up with her.

Klaus is the one to snatch her hand away, cradling it against his chest. Shocks of grey hair had grown at Gloria's temple, the sight of frown lines that weren't there until now perplexing the Hybrid.

Seething, he snarled at Gloria. "Never, ever, place your hands on her again. For whatever reason, do not touch her. She cannot help herself as she is, she'll lay you to waste before you know it."

"She needs gloves. She left her pair behind at the estate." Stefan shifts in place, his brow becoming heavy with concern. "She has a hard time controlling herself upon contact with human flesh."

"Why is this time different?" Klaus grumbled, the back of his hand brushing a stray hair away. "She looks dazed."

"A witch's lifeforce sustains her but it's like drinking wine, or taking drugs. It's too much for her system to handle and does more harm than good."

"She didn't act this way when Dorotheé took a look into her mind and unlocked her mental gate."

"That's because Dorotheé was actively doing a spell. The magic flowing around beneath her skin acted as a buffer. Gloria wasn't protecting herself and turned into an all you can eat buffet. Hanne is young in Reaper years- hell, she's young in human years. She's only in her twenties."

"So she is still aging?" Klaus frowned, bringing a cold hand to Hanne's warm cheeks. She gives him a beaming smile, the sight of it making his lips twitch at the corners.

"I'll stop aging when I reach my prime." She says matter of factly, her hand playing with the rosary resting on her chest. "My parents only aged physically because they wanted to, and they asked my brother to let them age very, very slowly."

"Why would anyone ever want that?" Gloria gasped. Her shaking hands ran over her face, checking the extent of Hanne's damage.

"Beats me. They said they wanted to look old enough to have a twenty-three-year-old and to give them some room for if I grow any older. It's easier to blend in when people don't ask so many questions from the local funeral homeowners.

People die so often, it's hard to keep making up stories for why my father hasn't aged in a decade or two. Personally, I think that's stupid. I don't want to grow old. Wrinkles? Bleh."

Deep down, Hanne feared getting older. She hated the idea of her body changing out of her control, loathed the thought that she might not stop aging until she hit her forties. Humans aged because they had finite lifespans. Every day was another step closer to taking that final dirt nap. But Hanne could live forever; could stay young and strong eternally. To think of something that could not die, showing signs of oncoming death...well.

It made her little Grinch heart squeeze with unease.

That unease that pulled her from her slight stupor. Gloria looked at her with new eyes, ones that looked mighty hungry. The glimpse behind the veil is gone and Gloria's famous starlet smile comes gleaming back. She's about to snap out a warning when Klaus ushers her and Stefan out of the room, the gears already turning in his devious mind.

She bypasses Gloria, making sure to not come into contact with her skin. Whatever it was Gloria wanted, she'd have a hell of a time taking it from Hanne.

They step into a warehouse, Klaus's long legs eating up the distance and Stefan doing his best to try and keep up. Hanne trails behind them, hands shoved into her army jacket's pockets. The pair come to a sudden stop, Stefan spilling Klaus around and demanding answers. It's like taking part in a telenovela, she mused, leaning against the wall.

"Tell me," Stefan snaps, veins crawling beneath his eyes.

"You and Rebekah were a bit of a thing. Just as in love with her as you appear to be with your late girlfriend."

"But he had his humanity turned off. He couldn't have loved her." Hanne pointed out.

"Sometimes, in very rare exceptions- love can bloom even in a monster's heart." Klaus says, turning to lock gazes with Hanne. He pries Stefan's hand off his arm, something very worn settling in around the corners of his eyes.

"I knew two of you," Stefan said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Yes, well, enough of that. We need to wake Rebekah." Klaus spins on his heel and stalks off into one of the many rooms, revealing the same caskets as before.

Inside of it is the girl from Hanne's memories. Though desiccated and posed like a corpse, with her outfit straight from the roaring twenties, Hanne still knew her on sight. A dagger stood proudly from her chest, the edges crusted with decades-old blood. Hanne slumped against the door, unable to bear the rotten sight. She was surprised to feel the need to plunge the dagger in her own heart, the emotion echoing through time to reach her as she was now.

Hanne knew she would love this girl once more and cursed herself for it.

Like he was waking a child, Klaus placed a gentle hand at the side of her face. He looked fond, even, despite the morbid moment. Stefan comes to stand at his side, soaking in her ill-looking face and sorry blue lips.

"I don't remember her." He admits, brows heavy.

"Her temper is worse than mine, I wouldn't tell her that," Klaus says, pulling the dagger from her chest.

"Don't share that with her, it'll break her heart." They say it at the same time, exchanging the smallest of smiles.

"Time to wake up, little sister."

Rebekah doesn't even twitch. Hanne closes her eyes, doing her best to breathe deeply. She couldn't believe that all this time, she'd forgotten about Rebekah, someone she clearly still loved. Opening her eyes, she studied Klaus' back. What else had she'd forgotten?

"If she's not going to wake up, then maybe you can tell me what the fuck is going on here." Stefan spat through gritted teeth. "You clearly want me here for a reason."

"You're useful. Creative."

"Can't be that creative," Stefan countered.

"Oh, no, you were. A gentleman had been looking for his wife, you see. One Stefan had recently been seen with." Klaus's smile widens, his angelic face positively devilish. "Only, our Stefan had invited them both to sit with us instead of letting them off on their merry way. Do you remember what happened next, Stefan?"

"I'm afraid I can't say."

"Stefan had sat them across from each other, sitting the poor fellow with me of all people. After bringing out a blade and running it across her pretty little wrist, he'd let the swell of blood pool into a glass. Then he'd let her go, telling her to find something to stop the bleeding."

"I'm kind of failing what is so impressive about this," Hanne admits, swatting away his hand.

"What was so impressive, my dear little starling, was that Stefan had compelled the man to stay in his seat and to not shout. Then he made him drink his own wife's blood- the whole thing! It was positively devious."

"That's what impressed you?" Hanne blinked. "He's told me wilder things. And you've lived for like a billion years, haven't you experimented with torture? Dabbled with the dark and all that?"

"Only a thousand years, sweetheart. It was impressive because it was unique, not because it was violent. I knew then that our little Ripper was something special."

"I still don't quite believe you." Stefan said.

"Oh? Then let us take a little trip. Maybe that will jog your memory."

The apartment complex they arrived at was falling apart at the seams. Clearly part of old Chicago, it looked like it'd been abandoned long ago, it's very walls grey with age. Hanne wrinkles her nose and keeps her hands to herself. The idea of touching anything in this building was the equivalent to nails on a chalkboard, a shiver crawling up her spine at the very idea.

The apartment itself wasn't much better. Dust covered the walls and floor, old canned foods lining a creaky shelf towards the back. Hanne hovered by the doorway, suddenly unsure. It felt like a private moment between the two, one that didn't need her tagging along for. A pang of loneliness hit her. It was like being on the playground all over again, left to fend for herself as the other kids ran and played together.

Hanne caught Stefan's eyes, his face growing pale. Juniper green darted around the room, a twinge of desperation hitching a ride at the corner of his lips.

"You had this little ritual, you see. You'd take the name of your victim and write it down..."Klaus trailed off, looking behind his shoulder at Stefan.

"To remember it." Stefan whispered.

"And over again in your head." He smirked and pulled at the shelf, revealing a secret passage.

Hanne's mouth dropped and she stepped further into the room, rushing over. "A secret door? Of course, the Prohibition age was all about secret doors."

"You believe me now?"

Stefan paused at the mouth of the door, his shoulders tense. Without sparing either of them a look, he stepped into the small space.

"The twenties were such a fun time," She recalls, quirking a smile at Stefan's back. "From what little I lived of it, anyways."

"You lived in the twenties? Where? What did you do?" The force of his attention was a black hole. Steel eyes glinted at her, his gaze suddenly hungry for whatever scrap of information she could give.

"It was a short life. Barely made it to twenty, then got sick. It was in New York...My last life before I was born into this one." She's about to follow Stefan down his rabbit hole but he beats her to the punch.

In his hands is a dusty old bottle of wine. He gives Klaus an oddly warm smile, the hint of desperation from earlier barely noticeable. "Look."

"It's nineteen-eighteen. A single malt. My favorite." Once again Hanne feels like she's intruding.

The look on their faces is so intimate, so fond. She grits her teeth and pulls away from the door. In her chest is a burning fire that blazes higher the longer the moment goes on. Hanne stalks towards the front door, brushing past them both and breaking their little flirtation.

"I'm bored. Let's get out of this dump."

* * *

It's like all they have been doing lately is drink. Hanne is painfully sober, her thoughts clinging to the prone frame of Rebekah. She anxiously checks the clock, debating if she should expose her worries to Klaus or keep it close to her chest like always. Her mother's voice whispered to stay silent, that Klaus needed less reasons to think she'd stay around than he already had.

What slipped from her instead was: "So, you have a dagger for all of us, then?"

Klaus peered over his glass at her, both of his brows shooting up. He slowly placed it back onto the countertop, pink tongue darting to catch a drop of the amber liquor. "No. Only for my family."

"Would you dagger us, if given the chance?" She presses, leaning into her hand and doing her best to seem like she wasn't fretting over his actions.

"There's no need to dagger you, not with that gift I gave you. Stefan? Perhaps, if it wouldn't just kill him." Klaus smirks at Stefan, chuckling when Stefan rolled his eyes in response.

Her dark curls spill onto the bar, hiding her face like a curtain from his seeking eyes. It's getting late and the sun has long gone down. She sips at her pink drink with a little umbrella in silence. It's hard to think about how close she must have been to Klaus, the dream from this morning taking her mind by storm. Even Stefan's brooding isn't enough to distract her.

So she talks. Talks about everything that pops into her head, eyes still on her drink and blatantly ignoring Klaus's hungry interest. She brings up her major in medicine, how she hopes to take over her dad's job as a mortician, maybe even follow in his footsteps and become a forensic pathologist first.

Bringing up her dad was a mistake. Her eyes try to blink away the incoming tears, the glass in her hand creaking dangerously under her tightened grip. She sags into Klaus's arm her fourth glass in, his fingers tangling as they play with the ends of her hair.

"You know, I miss him a lot. My family means everything to me. They are the only ones who accept me as I am," She croaks. She meets Stefan's eyes and gives him a small smile. "Aside from Stef, obviously."

"Your father- the one I first knew- loved you more than anything," Klaus sounds far away, a wistful smile on his plump mouth. "He never let anyone call you strange or simple. He was kind to me, as well. Kinder than my own father."

"He thought of you as his own," Hanne sighs, the faintest spark of the memory clear to her. "He'd always talked so highly of you for watching out for me."

"Yes, well, caring for you is easy." He murmurs and takes another sip. "Part of Stefan reminded me of you, funnily enough."

"I do see a small correlation between Ripper Stefan and myself."

"You're nothing like Ripper me," Stefan scoffs. "You're a kitten compared to that dude."

"No, it was the words you would say that reminded me of her." Klaus corrects. "You ask why I keep you around? You were one of the few who saw me as not a monster, but a king."

The words are familiar, tickling the back of her mind. It slips through her fingers like water but then comes roaring back with the force of a wave, the cup in her hand cracking.

_Hanne, no, Iona, and a much younger Niklaus walk side by side. He doesn't look much older than Stefan in this memory, his eyes much wider and less jaded. The darkness of modern-day wasn't present yet as he watched Iona walk on top of a fallen tree, her arms out to her sides to steady herself._

" _Pay your father's words no mind, he is blind to all that you can be." Iona shrugged, letting out a peal of laughter as she almost tumbled to the ground. The whispers of ghosts unwilling to show themselves warned her to be more careful, a finger of wind winding around a stray curl and yanking like a scolding parent._

_She hissed and fell right into Niklaus' waiting arms, eyes clenching shut with the sting. When they open, her eyes are white and she mutters at them, dispersing their presence with an iron-wrought hand. The rings glimmer and shine in the high morning sun, each one meticulously made by crafty hands._

" _He sees me as I am," Niklaus grumbles. "A weak fool who will bring him no glory."_

" _You're no weak fool, Nik. You create such beautiful things and can hold your own in a battle. Just because you are not brutally strong like your brothers does not make you weak. And! You are twice as clever."_

_The younger version of Klaus sat her down at the log, taking a careless seat next to her. "You are the only one who thinks so, I am afraid."_

" _Everybody else has the mind of a wooden stump. You could be a king if you wish. I see it in you." The smile she gave him was tender, her cheeks becoming flushed. "You only need to see it too."_

She comes back to reality with a jolt, now off in a corner with Stefan's face hovering worriedly over her. He's gone with a flash, out of the room and out the back door before she can gather her bearings. Hanne stumbles to her feet, desperately chasing after him and only coming to a stop at the sight of Damon-fucking-Salvatore sitting at the bar with Klaus.

The two are speaking in English, she knows this somewhere deep in her mind, but nothing makes sense to her. It escalates into a fight, Klaus grabbing hold of Damon and snarling in his face. Pressure builds up in her ears and she's falling down to her knees. Klaus' growling turns to shouting, his hands releasing Damon.

"Aw, even little Metasopheles is tiring of her devil lord." Damon grunted, pulling what looked like the umbrella from Hanne's drink out of his stomach.

Klaus pulled her to her feet, wielding his teeth at Damon as if to ward him off. He surprised them both by grinning, the sight unsettling to a suddenly nervous-looking Damon. "That was rather clever. Too bad you've stopped being amusing so soon."

"You can't kill him," Hanne choked out, her lips twisting with the sour words. "He's Stefan's brother, Stefan would never be the friend you want him to be if you kill him now."

"Then what do you suppose I do?" Klaus snarled.

"Let me fetch him, Stefan can deal with him." Hanne was pleading now. The sound of her voice so needy and desperate made her sick to her core, but it was enough to give her devil pause.

Even though she knows better, her eyes still search the room, needing to see Stefan's face. He was truly gone, the idea that he'd run out and left her behind blitzing through her body like lightning. She ripped herself from Klaus and floundered towards the back door.

Klaus says nothing, starring after her until the door shuts.

Chicago was cool enough at night to shake the rest of the grogginess from her steps. Hanne's chest clenched tightly, Stefan's name a mantra in her mind. She rounds the corner, past the stinking garbage bin and onto the brightly lit alleyway. It clicks like a bullet reloading why he disappeared, Elena's soft doe eyes staring up at him pleadingly.

"Come home," She whispered. "Please, just come home…"

Elena folds into his arms, her small hands clinging to the soft fabric of his shirt. Hanne freezes at the mouth of the alley, leaning against the brick wall for some stability. Elena's eyes flicker towards her, silk chocolate meeting bottomless hazel. It's the slightest pinch in the corners of her eyes that gives her away before her hand does.

"Stefan, she's got a needle!" Hanne shouted. She debates running over, knowing she'd never reach him in time but wishing to do something.

The needle descends towards the back of his neck but Stefan catches Elena's forearms in a bruising grasp. He leans in close, face uncharacteristically deadly.

"I don't want to see you. I don't want to be with you. I just want you gone from here. Don't come back, Elena."

Elena founders from his grasp, tears spilling down her cheeks. It's odd, the feeling that swells within Hanne. A sense of understanding, of pity. All three of them were puppets to Klaus and here was a perfect example of the bloodless kind of damage Klaus inflicted. Stefan brings arm around her shoulders and steers her back to their keeper, leaving Elena alone in her sorrow.

"You didn't have to do that." Stefan spoke, breaking the silence.

"Do what?"

"Any of it. You didn't have to come out and get me, or warn me. I thought," He paused, biting his lip. "I thought you hated me now."

"Part of me does, Stefan. But I hate Klaus more. I've realized to survive him, we've got to stay together. I think I can turn a blind eye until we're free from this mess."

"I'll take that." He said softly, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "One day I'll make it up to you."

Klaus has his back to them when they enter, back to sitting at his place at the bar. Instead of greeting them, he knocks back what seems to be half a bottle of bourbon. Damon has vanished, much to Hanne's relief. When they resume taking their seats, it's as a unit, a newly strengthened team.

Hanne and Stefan would survive Klaus together.

* * *

The warehouse is just as unfriendly seeming as it was the first time they swung by. She's getting out of the car, Stefan waiting off to the side when she notices Klaus has flashed into the building already. He'd been moody when they'd rejoined him, his humor long gone and face stony. She'd been relieved when he'd finally decided to check on Rebekah.

She always seemed to be walking in on something, she noted dryly. Walking in with Stefan at her side, the girl who'd been a dear friend to her in her first life had her back to them. The fringes of her white flapper dress danced as she pressed the dagger that used to be rooted in her chest into her brothers. The siblings snarled at each other, their matching blue eyes murky with centuries worth of rage.

"Now, you know that wouldn't kill me," Klaus says, gritting his teeth and pulling the dagger from his breastbone.

Hanne peered over Stefan's shoulder at the bickering siblings, eyeing the dagger with renewed interest. Was there something similar that could hurt Klaus an Original like Klaus? What about its properties helped bring Rebekah done in the first place?

Explanations and theories swirling around dangerously, thoughts on finding a way to get her hands on that dagger rejuvenating her. Her hand gripped tightly onto Stefan's arm and the two shared a wary glance. Slowly, she looked from his eyes towards the dagger, then back to him. Sage eyes lit with understanding, a flicker of hope rising from the embers and shining in the golden flecks.

"No, but I hoped it would hurt more." Rebakah spat.

Another British accent, Hanne noted. Elijah must have really wanted to distance himself from the crazier members of the family if the blonde sibling's interactions were anything to go by.

"I'll forgive your tantrum, just this once. It's a happy occasion after all."Klaus dropped the bloody dagger, bringing a hand to his little sister's shoulder. "Look at what I've brought you."

Rebekah's bobbed curls bounced as she turned her head, thin brows raised with annoyance. Like the shutter of a camera, her face brightened at the sight of Stefan, her voice coming out in a whisper.

"Stefan." It's the tone of a lover lost, Rebekah's sky blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears. The softest of smiles graced her face and she took a step forward, her kitten heel-clicking loudly in the vast warehouse.

All traces of confidence shattered like broken glass upon seeing Hanne. A gasp leaves Rebekah's pained face, looking at Hanne like she were the one seeing an apparition. She trembled in her spot, her knees knocking together.

"Iona? _Systir_?" The tears spilled over but it was overshadowed by a blinding smile. "You're alive! But how…? This must be some sort of trick."

"It's no trick, I've ensured it. We have many things to catch up on, little sister." Klaus interjected smoothly, coming to stand at the forefront of everyone's attention.

Rebekah ignores him, flinging herself at a shocked Hanne. She clings to the Reaper, harsh sobs raking her chest. Reaching across time as an echo that only grew, the affection she'd once felt for the blonde came roaring in, stitching itself into her bones. Hanne returns the hug, holding her dearest Rebekah close. It felt like a piece of her that she hadn't known was missing fell back into place.

Rebekah pulled herself away, her hands coming up to cradle Hanne's cheeks. "I cannot believe you have returned to us. Never, ever leave us again."

"Don't worry. She won't." Klaus said. "And now neither will Stefan."

"What?" Stefan sputtered, confusion pitching his brows into a sharp v.

Klaus stepped in front of him, his pupils dancing. "Remember. Everything I've made you forget, remember it now, Stefan."

It was times like this Hanne was glad she couldn't be compelled. The realization that even that part of Stefan's autonomy was under Klaus' expert control was a vile one. A sinking feeling filled her stomach, Rebekah's arms suddenly feeling like metal bars. As Stefan remembered, as he began to give a true smile to the two Originals, Hanne came to a single troubling conclusion.

Things had just gotten infinitely more complicated.

And it seems Klaus is aware of this, is the small sly smile he sends her way is anything to go by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates should be coming faster, I have a schedule worked out! Let me know your thoughts in the comments <3


	5. Meet the Nylands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> is the title a nod to the movie Meet the Fockers? Yes. Yes, it is.

She’s two champagne flutes in, snickering away with Rebekah as they tried on outfit after outfit. Rebekah herself shines like the sun in all it’s golden glory, her white-blonde hair and cornflower blue eyes twinkling like fairy lights as she gazes at her own reflection.

When she turns to her small but adoring crowd, Hanne lazily claps for her, watching in amusement as the girl spins in a circle. It’s a moment untouched by the rest of reality, taking all of Hanne’s concentration to ignore the devilish creature lording over them all from his own couch. She only chances a look when he says nothing about Rebekah’s new dress, his eyes screaming of boredom.

A bored Klaus is a dangerous Klaus. _A happy Klaus is a dangerous Klaus, an angry Klaus is a dangerous Klaus- Klaus Klaus Klaus._ Klaus was dangerous, period. The saying about idle hands prickles at her skin, and she has to fight making a mad dash for the door as another compelled cocktail waitress dances in. He turns his attention to her instead, the energy in the air charging like a live wire. The poor girl is pulled onto his lap, the junction of her neck becoming the fountain he drinks from.

Hanne wonders how much longer she can play happy hostage. Rebekah’s presence dulled the edges of her ire, but every glance at Klaus was a needle beneath her nails. Memories of the blonde girl came and went, filtering in and out of existence like snatches of reprieve she couldn’t quite settle into. More and more she finds herself wishing she were spending time with Damon Salvatore instead of this temperamental annoyance that was Klaus.

“Here.” Stefan whispered, snapping Hanne out of her thoughts. He pushes the bar cart towards her with a small smile, the corners of it conspiratory. 

He hands her a long box, the hide of a crocodile hiding the contents from Hanne’s curious eyes. She takes it from him to open it, her fingers tenderly pushing back the lid. There, nestled between silk she didn’t doubt was pure, was a pair of gloves. Not just any gloves- these gloves were butter-soft beneath her fingertips. Pulling them out, they unraveled further, the opening coming to rest around her elbows when she slid them on.

“You bought me new gloves,” Hanne muttered, still struck by the feeling of pure luxury that graced her skin.

“Your hands are always cold. And you might want to have them to wear so you don’t keep accidentally feeding off Gloria. She might kill you for that, you never know with these friends of Klaus’s.”

“You forget that you are a friend of Klaus’s,” Rebekah says smoothly, easily stepping into the conversation. 

It’s worse, somehow, sharing Stefan’s attention with Rebekah. Despite Klaus’s ever-watching eyes, it’s Rebekah who looks at Stefan with the gaze of a lover. Like she knows him, more than Hanne could ever wish to. The chasm between Stefan and Hanne cracks open, another rock slipping into the growing abyss. She could share Stefan, could let Rebekah in.

But where she went, Klaus followed. 

Even now, Klaus looks up from his drink, his gunmetal eyes heavy as he looks for Stefan’s answer. A silent war rages inside of the youngest vampire, the jut of his jaw stubborn. The look fades before it can even settle and the smirk that appears on Klaus’ face is triumphant. Stefan idly pushes the cart away, watching as it rolls and bumps into the mirror Rebekah had been looking at. Blue meets green in the reflection, Klaus’s smile growing wider.

Stefan looks away.

A dark thought lingers in the bad of her mind like a spider. If Hanne could, she presumes, she’d eat Klaus raw. Suck him dry till he was but a husk if it meant keeping him from Stefan. If it meant keeping him from his affections.

She shook herself free from the thought, uncurling her lips. They’d been pulled into a silent snarl, her blunt teeth on display for the room to see. She chanced a look, seeing Rebekah and Stefan locked in a light conversation, their hands brushing together from the small in-between of their bowing bodies. They orbited each other, the sun and the earth, and Hanne couldn’t fathom why it didn’t bother her to share Stefan with Rebekah.

It would be easier if she could hate Rebekah. She was Klaus’ sister, and despite his very unbrotherly act of daggering her for decades, she seemed loyal enough to him to make Hanne wary. But Stefan’s happiness shone so brightly. Hanne hadn’t known you could miss someone you never remembered, but it did make her wonder. It was unfortunate that just when she’d decided to band together with the vampire, a blast from the past came searing through like a comet.

Surely, Klaus didn’t know this would happen. Right?

It was her turn to be caught up in Klaus’ web. His smile twisted into something sharper, the hint of fang glinting teasingly from behind pink lips. She blinked and they were blunt once more. If Klaus was a covetous creature, Hanne was a greedy one. To see that Klaus was glimpsing that bit of her, a part only her family and Stefan knew of...It felt too intimate. Like he was peeling back her skin and seeing the mass of writhing tar that law beneath. The fathomless black that couldn’t give- only take.

Klaus seemed to like what he saw and that irritated her all the more.

“Do you remember when women only wore skirts?” Rebekah’s voice broke through her thoughts, rattling her. She’s focusing too much on Klaus- giving too much thought to someone who deserved it little.

“I vaguely remember how upset my parents had been when I stole a pair of trousers to hunt in,” She said dryly. 

“We received so many complaints for wearing trousers, and yet the women of this century dress like harlots.” 

“You both wore trousers so the women of today could dress like this,” Klaus sipped at his champagne, eyes finally flitting from Hanne and to his sister. “Seems like it went well to me.”

“I’d get with the times, shaming someone for their sexual history is out of vogue.” 

“Isn’t this nice, all of us getting along?” Klaus smirked.

“It’s easy to get along with your sister; she’s currently my favorite Mikaelson.”

“You cannot possibly mean that. She’s only been awake for a day.”

“And yet she’s infinitely better company.”

Hanne picked up one of the many magazines Rebekah had dropped onto the couch, the luxurious feel of her gloves drawing another smile to her face. It was easy to flip through the pages and get lost in the glossy pictures and the feeling of buttery leather encasing her hands. She should have known it wouldn’t last long. The couch dipped, Klaus’s arm resting on the back of it behind her tensed shoulders.

“Rebekah, come get your cad of a brother, he’s going to say something to ruin my day further.”

Hanne’s smile was dressed as a blade but it didn’t cut through Rebekah’s mood. It seemed only to delight her further, bringing out a bark of laughter from the beautiful blonde.

“The centuries have done little to soften your tongue, systir.” She sighed fondly. “I am glad for it.”

“Yes, well, I was only going to inquire about your new gloves. It seems our friend Stefan has quite the eye.”

“If it bothers you so much, you can always get me a pair. Then we can all sit around and compare them, see who comes out on top.”

Klaus’s eyes darkened. “Must you fight me at every turn?”

“Must you kidnap young women and then magically bind them to you?” 

“You cannot possibly hold that over me for the rest of time.”

“You underestimate my pettiness,” Hanne said, flipping the page. Klaus tore it from her grasp, flinging the magazine across the room. Instead of indulging him, Hanne simply picked up another.

Klaus ripped that one away from her too, the glass in his free hand shattering and falling onto her skirt. “Things could be so much easier if you just let me in.” He snarled.

“I would rather die,” Hanne whispered, leaning in close as if sharing a secret. “Again and again, than become whatever it is you want of me. Your friend, your sister, your lover. You are my enemy after all that you’ve done.”

She gently stood, brushing the rest of the glass to the floor, her hand's untouched thanks to Stefan’s gift.

“And what a shame, because if you hadn’t got in your own way, I might even have liked you.”

She stalked from the room, Rebekah casting a wary glance at her temperamental brother before trotting faithfully after her. Stefan stayed behind, his gaze somber and mouth set in a deep frown.

The girls walked out in silence, the streets of Chicago busy as ever. Odd glances were shot their way, their extravagant dresses making them stick out like a sore thumb. Rebekah was contemplative, a far-off cast to her blue eyes. They slipped into the neared diner, Rebekah’s compulsion thankfully doing all the heavy lifting.

“You will get us your best drink and a sample of every sweet you have,” She ordered, watching the compelled waitress walk away before turning to Hanne.

“I would leave you to your brooding, but it’s never been in my nature. After all this time...you’ve come to hate my brother. Why is that?” Her heartbreak was clear in her voice, Rebekah’s hands sliding across the table to grab hold of Hannes.

Hanne shocked herself by not only letting her but by clutching back as if she’d be lost to sea without Rebekah’s grip. “I don’t remember much of him. The first time I saw him again, I was his hostage. That’s not exactly trust-inducing.”

“Klaus would never cause you harm. In fact, if you’d been anyone else, he’d have killed you by now for all that you’ve said. My brother isn’t a very patient man, but he’s been generous with you.”

“I don’t want his generosity, Rebekah. I just want to go home.” Hanne slumped in her seat, shaking her hands free.

The waitress came back, placing plate after plate of dessert food on the tabletop. Hanne ignored it all, appetite ruined with all the talk of Klaus. She’d been truthful earlier. If Klaus hadn’t spirited her away and then forced her into being his eternal bodyguard, she wouldn’t have minded the bastard. He had his charms, eccentric and violent as they were, but charming nonetheless.

Klaus just made it so easy to hate him- she’d never know now how different things could have been. She knows she should blame Stefan. He was the rightful target, after all. Handing her over like she meant nothing and getting her stuck in this situation in the first place.

But, she thought, peering down at her gloved hands, Stefan was harder to hate. He was her dearest friend and he was trying to repair their relationship. She’d already decided to set them both free, but where would that leave them after it was all said and done? Could she truly turn her hatred on her oldest friend?

“You two were never without the other, or you were at least not very far,” Rebekah said softly. “Out of all of my siblings, Niklaus and you held a bond woven so tight that none of us could slip through. I used to be so jealous of it. But now I wish things were just as they were…”

“How do you not hate your brother? After all that he’s done to you- and I’m sure he’s done more than simply dagger you for decades at a time.”

“He wasn’t always like this. He used to be so sweet, so gentle, my brother. But between Father, Henrik’s death, and losing you...He’s changed. We all have, even you it seems.”

“But how can you forgive him so easily?” Hanne asked desperately, leaning forward once more. 

When Rebekah smiled, it didn’t reach her eyes. “Forever is a long time to hate your family.”

* * *

The instant Rebekah returns to Stefan’s side, they are back in their own little world. It’s so sickenly intimate, so _loving_ , that Hanne has to turn away. Klaus is nowhere to be seen, likely plotting something nefarious with his witchy friend. Stefan has brought out a stack of CDs when Hanne looks back, his hand fisted and held out to her with a smirk on his face.

“Got you something.”

Hanne narrows her eyes. “I don’t like that smile.”

“Aw, that’s hurtful. It’s just my face.” He shook his fist. “Now come on, come get your gift.”

“I’m good with all the gifts you’ve already gotten me,” Hanne grumbled but stepped forward anyway, her palm open and waiting.

Stefan dropped his gift, a small plastic glow in the dark spider ring, in her hand. Hanne stared at it, eyes watering. When she looked back up at him, he was holding one of the CD’s up next to his face with a smile. Rebekah looked between them with her own smile, though her brows pinched in confusion.

“You love this Bon Jovi so much?” Rebekah asked, head tilting.

“Hah,” Hanne gave a wet laugh. “No, but someone we know did.”

“Oh?”

“Her name was Lexi.” Stefan turned to a suspiciously new stereo, popping open the CD case and placing it in. “She was only my best friend, before Hanne. After Klaus, I guess.”

“And she was amazing.” Hanne sighed, the fabric of her dress swishing as she walked over to the couch, collapsing onto it. “Beautiful, lively- and kinder than most. I didn’t know her for more than a few years, but she was...inspiring, in a way.”

“Klaus said you hadn’t any friends aside from Stefan,” Rebekah frowned, something bitter lingering along the edges of her words.

“We weren’t really friends- not like Stefan and her. We could have been.” 

“She was Hanne’s Epic Love,” Stefan teased, finally pressing play. Hanne’s heart swelled in time with the music, her fingers rubbing against the legs of the spider ring. The familiar words tugged at her and she smiled.

“It was just a crush,” Hanne said with a roll of her eyes. “Lexi was with some baby vamp named Lee. Nice enough dude, but Lexi could have done better. She was the first person to make my heart race in centuries and I’ll never forget that.”

“What happened to her?”

“Damon happened.” 

“...My brother killed her,” Stefan muttered. 

“On your birthday, no less. Pretty low of him if you ask me.”

“And the truth comes out.” Klaus drawled, making the occupants snap their heads towards him. 

Hanne hadn’t even felt his presence, she thought with a curse. She should have- even now the warmth and blistering chill of his dual natures pickled the skin at the back of her neck. So focused on memories of Lexi, Hanne had allowed her awareness to Klaus slip in unnoticed. She stuck the ring on her finger, giving Klaus a tired frown.

“What truth?”

“Oh, that you hate his brother for more than what you’ve said. I’d wondered if Damon had broken your heart, but I hadn’t expected it to be in this way.” Klaus sauntered into the room, his champagne flute having been exchanged for a finger of bourbon. 

Hanne shrugged. “I wasn’t lying, I just didn’t list every single reason.”

“If you say so. As much as I love that everybody is getting along, I have some rather unfortunate news.”

“Did you find my necklace?” Rebekah piped up, coming to sit next to Hanne and leaning into her. Hanne stiffened but slowly opened her arm, letting the blonde lay on her. Rebekah’s hair shined like silk, something Hanne never could quite get her own hair to do, the strands falling through Hanne’s fingers easily.

“Gloria has located its general location. It seems we must head back to Mystic Falls.” Klaus smirked, taking a swig of his bourbon.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Stefan’s face went pale. Noticing his silence, Klaus’s head begins to turn in his direction, and Hanne blurts out the first thing she can think of.

“Does that mean you’re going to meet my parents?”

Klaus appraised her, the smile on his face turning victorious as if he’d won something unseen. “By all means, let’s not keep them waiting then.”

* * *

Hanne’s mother was chillingly beautiful, even as she stared down her nose at Klaus from the driveway. Even without supernatural eyesight, Erika Nyland’s eyes lanced through the tinted window with hawk-like precision. Her long legs ate up the distance, the sway to her hips hypnotic as if moving to a beat only she could hear. She stopped just at the gate door, paper pale hands grabbing hold of the iron-wrought metal as if ready to tear it away.

Klaus took a moment to take in Hanne’s newest mother, debating her feline features and the sharp look in her onyx eyes. She wore all black, the shade blending into her silken pin-straight pitch hair, making her untrusting face appear that much starker. Hanne jumped from the truck and sprinted towards her mother, jumping into her arms as she did as a small child.

“Boys! She’s home!” Erika shouted over her shoulder, turning her attention to the daughter she’d missed dearly. “Babyen min, have they been feeding you well?” She cooed, brushing a curl from Hanne’s face.

“Well enough, I suppose.” 

The other three slowly climbed out of the truck, Stefan holding out a hand to steady Rebekah as if he were helping a princess from her carriage. Klaus, for all cockiness, was the last to get out of the vehicle, a smooth mask settling into place. The door slammed open, a tall and lanky young man sprinting out into the garden. He practically tackled Hanne, a bright grin on his face.

“And the prodigal daughter returns!” Jae-Joon said with an impish grin.

“I was kidnapped, I didn’t take off into the night,” Hanne’s voice was dry as she addressed her brother, but her eyes lit up with a happiness Klaus had rarely seen this summer. 

Jae-Joon shrugged, ruffling Hanne’s hair and moving forward to greet a fast approaching Stefan and Rebekah. “Stefan! Nice to see you again, though you sure made a mess of things. At least you’ve brought her back to us.”

“Actually,” Klaus said smoothly with a smirk, stepping up to the gate like this were any other meeting. “I brought her back.”

Jae-Joon swivels his head, taking in this hybrid with a shred look. Though adopted, he looked so much like their mother at that moment that Hanne couldn’t help but laugh. His thoughts on Klaus are written all over his face, down to the annoyed downwards curl of his lips. Jae-Joon pulls away from Hanne and stands in front of him, black eyes narrowed.

“Go ahead. Step through the gate.” Jae-Joon says.

Klaus hesitates for the briefest of moments. Not out of fear or even trepidation- no, out of anticipation. It hums in the air around them and warps into delighted surprise when he enters the gate and Erika is upon him, her long bony fingers wrapped around his throat. She lifts him high in the air, plumes of smoke wafting from her as tar bleeds from her pores. 

“The gate may have considered you free of guilt, but I do not.” She hisses, sinking her long coffin-shaped nails into his skin. 

Klaus chokes out a laugh but his eyes are accessing, and the look on his face feels much too amused for Hanne to find any real pleasure from the debacle. Rebekah and Stefan step through the wards with ease but Erika spares them no attention. Her brother only steps back to stare, arms crossed and his fingers tapping out an impatient rhythm. 

“Mama, you know you can’t kill him.” Jae-Joon sighs. 

As if on cue, the rosary around her neck tightens and pulls her towards Klaus. No amount of digging her heels into the ground can stop its mighty grasp, a few of her mother’s beautiful flowers tearing up through the ground as Hanne is drug forward. An itching begins beneath her skin, one that gives way to searing heat and builds to a fiery crescendo and takes her breath away.

Everything in her screams that freeing Klaus would relieve her of the scorching burn and the pain turns into a brilliant rage.

Klaus’ eyes are locked on hers, taking in her contorted face with barely restrained glee. Hanne finds herself moving as if puppeted by a set of unseen strings, surging forward and latching onto her mother’s arms to retch Klaus free. Klaus stumbles out of her mother’s grip and Hanne leaves her mother to clutch at him.

“Are you alright?” She gasps, watching with rapt eyes as the wounds on his neck heal. She brings her fingers to hover the trace crescent moons, the desire to wash his skin clean needling her.

“Hanne, are you alright-”

Stefan steps forward and she knows he has good intentions, that Stefan _always_ has good intentions, but her head whips towards his and her voice distorts. “Don’t come any closer.”

Klaus gazes at her like she’s the sparkling new eighth wonder of the world. Nevermind that her protectiveness is fabricated; forced. His hands still come to cup her cheeks, cradling her face like she was made of the finest porcelain. He says nothing, only arrests her with his stormy gaze and rests his forehead gently against hers. 

“I’m fine.”

It takes her a moment to believe him. Another to sag into his hold and just let him do as he pleases, her eyelashes fluttering shut to hide away her eyes from his. His hands are warm, if it’s with secondhand warmth or wolf-related, Hanne doesn’t know. But for a second, she takes solace in knowing her ward is safe and that she isn’t burning any longer.

The second passes and she pulls herself from him, walking past everyone and venturing into the house. She can faintly hear her mother invite Klaus in, her voice resigned. Not wanting to face any of them at the moment, passes the kitchen and the gleaming wall of bones her mother has collected over the years to pad down into the basement. 

Entering the basement always felt like stepping into an ice bath. The air is turned down to accommodate the bodies waiting to be readied for their services, each metal drawer shining to perfection and reflecting the warped silhouette of her father, revealing him before she turns the corner and can see him fully. His accent is thick as he speaks from his plush rolling chair, his recent paperwork forgotten.

“So he cheated, did he?”

Hanne almost thinks it’s her he’s talking to until another voice answers. The ghost sits outside of its body, perched at the edge of the long metal table in the center of the room. She’s younger than Hanne thought she would be, her long strawberry blonde hair pulled up into a ponytail and her specter still dressed in the running outfit she’d died in. It was a stark contrast to the grey and naked figure hidden away beneath a white sheet, the ghost gesturing wildly as her body is left frozen in place.

“He cheated on me with six other women and then when I’d confronted him about it, I woke up here.”

“I see. It seems your husband slipped a little rat poison in your morning cup smoothie. Did you not notice the taste?”

“I thought it must have been the kale going bad, or maybe some new protein powder he put in there. I didn’t think he would poison me!”

“Nobody ever believes they will be betrayed until it happens.”

“It’s a shame you can’t haunt him and make his life hell for what he did to you,” Hanne says dryly, coming to stand at her dad’s side. 

Anders smiles as his youngest child, bringing up a hand to squeeze hers. The ghost pouts, crossing her arms across her voluptuous chest. “And why not?”

“That’s not how it works, my dear. You’ll either go to the afterlife for your kind, or you’ll be eaten by someone like us. Luckily for you, I’ve already eaten.” Anders says. 

He takes his time getting to his feet, smoothing over the wrinkles in his pristine suit and rebuttoning it. Ander’s fingers gleam silver, his ring-laden hands catching the ghost's attention and holding it like a snare. She’s hypnotized, her pupils flickering in her blue eyes like the flame of a candle. Anders steps forward, his hand waving through her midriff and she’s carried away like smoke.

“Gå i fred.”

She lets a moment pass before she speaks. “What if I’d been hungry?”

“There’s ample to eat from. Take your pick.” He waves towards the metal wall of drawers, each labeled with small bear-shaped sticky notes. “I take it your Original is here as well.”

“Two Originals, and a Stefan.” She says, ignoring the drawers and sitting in her father’s vacated chair. 

It still feels warm, the scent of his expensive after-shave as warm as a mouthful of cinnamon as she breathes it in. It’s surreal to be home after the time she’s had. A part of her is afraid that if she closes her eyes too long, she’ll open them back up and everything will have been a dream. That she’d wake back up in her hotel bed with Klaus hovering over her, his wicked mouth smiling at her misery.

But when she opens her eyes again, her father is still there, taking the image of her in.

“I’ll have to introduce myself soon.”

“Mama already tried to attack him- don’t do what she did.”

Anders smiled at the mention of his life, the crinkles of his eyes making him look like a man still very much in love. “She’s a wonder, your mother.”

* * *

Every footstep felt heavy, the stairs seemingly thousands of yards long as she climbed them. Lowered voices come from her room and she pushes past the slightly open door to see Stefan and Rebekah rifling through her things. Boxes sit on her bed and amongst the clutter of her floor.

Rebekah stills when she comes out of Hanne’s walk-in closet, both arms full of clothing. “You’ve got to buy nicer clothing. I will never understand your reversion to the finer things in life.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“You dress like a teenaged boy who pulls on the first things he sees,” Rebekah said dryly, dumping her armful into the closest box. 

“Has she always dressed like this?” Stefan asked, carefully wrapping one of Hanne’s framed butterflies.

She takes a second to look around the room, noticing for the first time that her wall of meticulously displayed framed butterflies and moths was nearly blank. Her bookshelf, once overflowing with horror books and graphic novels had been picked through, her absolute favorites missing from their usual places. Dread settles in her stomach.

“She always had an interest in the trousers of our time, but she never dared wear them unless she was traversing the woods. Do you only have long sleeves?”

Hanne and Stefan exchanged a look, Stefan’s eyes darting away.

“Nothing has taken my interest this century. Fashion trends spin in and out of cycle so fast that I can hardly keep up. I just assumed it to be better if I just stopped trying.”

“Such a shame,” Rebekah sighed. “We will have to fix that. Maybe we should leave some of these behind, to make room for all the new clothing I’m going to purchase you. Nik has likely already pulled things from some collections, but I assume you will not want any of those.”

“You assume correctly. You can fill up my closet but that doesn’t mean I’ll please you with what I choose.” Hanne kicked a pair of beaten-up tennis shoes out of the way, trodding over to sit at the only free corner of her twin-sized mattress.

“Anything is better than this, honestly, what even is this?” Rebekah said, holding up a worn striped rugby shirt that was clearly three sizes too big for Hanne’s slight frame.

“A tent?” Stefan guessed, going to her dresser and eyeing her small collection of jewelry shrewdly. It was a testament to how closely he’d been paying attention over the years when he only plucked a few of her silver rings and a long ruby necklace her mother had gifted her on her eighteenth birthday.

“Ha, ha.” Hanne said dryly. Simon, a blue stuffed dog who has seen better days and is in desperate need of another eye, found his way into Hanne’s grip. She pet at him numbly, rubbing a thumb over the blank space where his right eye should be. “We are leaving so soon, then?”

Stefan gingerly dropped his hand into one of the many boxes before turning to her. “Klaus just wanted me to pick out some of the things he thinks you can’t do without before we move in his estate.”

“ _Our_ estate. It’s all of ours,” Rebekah said, reaching over to take ahold of his hand and give it a squeeze. They share a smile, exchanging a thousand words with just a glance.

Hanne searched herself for any anger, any annoyance towards the situation. She could only find reluctant acceptance. She’d known this was coming. “So you’re staying with us too?”

He shrugs. “I think I owe it to myself to see where this leads me. Now, what do you think you’ll want from your dorm?”

* * *

Klaus takes his time walking about the room, his hands clasped leisurely behind his back. The Nyland's seemed fond of their photos, he muses, eyes scanning each with a shrewdness he tends to save for museum paintings. It was like Hanne’s most recent life was on display for his own pleasure, years of her growing and evolving into her current self broadcasted behind recently cleaned glass frames. He paused in front of a family photo, presumably before Jae-Joon had come to join them.

Erika and Anders stood close together, their hands resting gently on a grinning Hanne. She’s younger than he’s ever seen her, clearly under the age of ten, her small hands holding tightly to an obnoxiously bright blue stuffed dog. Happiness shines in the curve of her smile and she stands tall, proud. He wonders how she’s come to be the sullen-faced, slumped-shouldered young woman she is today. It’s hard to compare her unhappy state to the vivacious woman he knew- he dashes away the idea that it’s him that makes her unhappy, the thought as unbearable as it was ridiculous.

Though she still held her sharp tongue and insatiable curiosity, her attitude of late was strange to say the least. He doubts he is its only cause, remembering fondly the spiteful glances she leveled at Stefan during their car ride through werewolf territory. He would remedy this current state of hers- bring back her memories and let everything go back to the way it should be. Klaus moves from the photo, only to smile at the blown-up portrait of her bored face.

Her downturned eyes shone light hazel in the ring light, flecks of the mercury and chocolate he knew so well visible to his hybrid eyes. Hanne’s dark curls were pulled free from her heart-shaped face, her flushed cheeks and rosy lips freed up for the lens. On her swanlike pale throat rested a gorgeous ruby necklace, the gems glittering against her bare collarbones, the off-the-shoulder black dress offsetting her snowy skin. Her normal violet under eyes had been concealed for the picture, erasing the last traces of humanity from her face.

She looked positively otherworldly; nearly vampiric. It entranced Klaus. He itched to paint a portrait just like this for his own viewing-only with happiness in her face instead of the loneliness he sees in her eyes. 

“Mr. Mikaelson,” Erika’s velvet-smooth voice brought him from his musings and he caught a glimpse of her gazing up at the portrait over his shoulder. Her eyes were sad though the rest of her face was carefully blank, only softening when her husband came to stand beside her.

“Why don’t you sit down,” Anders said, gesturing gracefully to one of the plush black settees. “We can keep each other company while Hanne and her friends gather her things.”

“Don’t look so dour, dad. Maybe this whole experience will humble her.” Jae-Joon drawled, slinking into the room with a wry smile in Klaus’ direction. 

“It’s not your sister's pride I’m afraid of,” Erika muttered, looking Klaus up and down. She turned her nose up at him, causing the easy smile on Klaus’ face to strain. “He looks like nobility but he is a vampire of all things.”

“A hybrid,” Klaus is quick to correct through gritted teeth.

“At least he isn't a human. Though, that would make things significantly easier, wouldn’t it Mr. Mikaelson?” Jae-Joon said, settling into one of the couches. 

Klaus picks his way through the oddly decorated living room, coming to lounge on the couch opposite Jae-Joon. “How do you suppose so?”

“You wouldn’t have been able to strong-arm my sister into being your guard if you’d been human. She would have just eaten you.” He says matter of factly. 

“It is merely a precaution. It’s only until her memories return to her.”

“And if they never do?” Anders poses, his eyes so like Hanne’s in that moment Klaus finds it hard to answer.

“Then we figure it out from there.”

“‘We’, as in you and only you.” Jae-Joon supplies, tilting his head. His long fingers come to play with a pen in his breast pocket, the gem catching Klaus’ attention.

“You’re a witch, correct?”

“A sorcerer. Vastly different.”

“What have you gathered about her curse? The one that keeps her coming back?” _The one that keeps her from remembering our life together._ He leaves unsaid.

“When we touched it earlier, I took a peek at it. It seems like it’s unraveling, though uneven in places. Something terribly old keeps it in place, something almost as powerful as you, if not more. She’ll remember you, she’s already started to. I suspect it’s harder for her to access those memories because of how far back in time they happened. Plus, you likely haven’t made it easy on her.

Not that she would make it any easier, either,” Jae-Joon says with a small grin. “She’s just as stubborn as she was in her last life.”

Klaus leaned forward, eyes burning. “You knew her in her previous life?”

“The most recent one before this one, yes. We met in the eighteen-hundreds. Both of us were low-born, but she had the benefit of her heritage while I didn’t. She was also beautiful and brilliant when she wasn’t talking to ghosts or asking too many questions about ‘unlady-like’ things. She entertained me, I charmed her; we became fast friends.”

“Jae-Joon had come to us after her death. He’d been looking for us, having guessed her situation from a few of the memories she told him that’d slipped through the cracks. I took one look at him and knew he was to be my son.” Erika said softly, coming to sit next to her son, smoothing a hand over his hair.

“How...how did she die?” Klaus’s mouth feels like cotton.

“Childbirth,” Jae-Joon said, unease finally appearing in his face. His shoulders seemed stiffer, the hand playing with his pen tightening its hold. 

Klaus’ mind is quick to come up with a story, conjuring a sad tale of a lonely lowborn girl falling prey to the desires of a sly noble. It’s what keeps him from acting out on the jealousy that roils through his veins, a sickly sorrowful feeling at missing out on yet another thing at her side becoming lead in his gut. It angers him that she’d be reduced to somebody's dirty little secret. He refuses to entertain the idea that this man gave her what he now cannot.

“She’ll never have to worry about anything ever again. Money, stability- she’ll never fall prey to a situation like that again.” He swears, unaware of Erika’s rolling eyes.

“Huh? Oh, no. She wasn't pressured into it.” Jae-Joon’s brows pinch together, a frown on his face.

An invisible splinter strikes his heart, digging in deep. Klaus is abruptly reminded of the memory she’d kept at bay, how Dorotheé had been cut short. “I beg your pardon?”

“Hanne had been one of the lucky ones. Oliver took fantastic care of her and loved her till the very end. They were childhood friends- her last mother had been a maid of Oliver’s family home. It’d been a shock to everyone when they’d gotten together, quite the scandal.”

“She was his mistress?”

“No. She was his _wife._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An: Sorry for the long wait!! Hope you don’t mind the longer chapter, I have a lot of things I want to establish for this fic and more might end up like this. Klaus sure paints a pretty picture of Hanne, huh? I guess that’s what love does to a person, makes them larger than life and less flawed. To me, she looks like a pale gremlin with crazy hair and terrible clothing but whatever LOL
> 
> Why Hanne’s past marriage is relevant, aside from being a needle in Klaus’ side, will be revealed as we go. I hope it doesn’t sound too far-fetched, but if you’re going to be reborn a couple dozen times, you’re probably going to have been married at least once. Let me know your thoughts in the reviews- it keeps me fueled!

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I hope you enjoyed this first chapter! This story is going to get a lil crazy, but that's pretty much in line with canon isn't it? I know, I know. Another reincarnation story lol. But hopefully there are some new things you haven't seen before. I wanted my own twist on it. Let me know your opinions in the comments! Stay safe and healthy babes! <3 Farvel!


End file.
